House of Cards
by taperjeangurl
Summary: With Samcro and the Nords at each other's throats, the arrival of Darby's niece sparks Jax's interest and he eyes a revenge-fueled conquest. But as their attraction quickly becomes something more, the fragile co-existence between the rival gangs threatens to implode. Romeo & Juliet inspired.
1. Proposition

**"These violent delights have violent ends/And in their triumph die, like fire and powder./Which as they kiss consume." - Romeo and Juliet, 2.3**

* * *

HOUSE OF CARDS

Chapter One

The remnants of the warehouse were still on fire when he pulled into the lot to survey the damages. Not that there'd been any of hope of salvaging it—bits and pieces of the warehouse were strewn around the grass like, well, like a bomb had gone off. Smoke was still emanating from the crisp, black debris and he felt his blood boiling just from looking at it.

Jackson Teller liked to believe he was a man who practiced brains before bullets. It wasn't easy to control the impulse to smash someone's head through a wall but he'd always been able to pull himself back when the situation called for it. This was not one of those fucking times. Right about now, he wanted to stomp through the smoking wreckage and find a nice slice of glass he could stab right into Ernest Darby's heart.

This was a low blow even for the Nords.

He took a long, furious pull from the cigarette at his lips and blew the smoke into the air, watching as it mixed with the grey fog wafting from the remains of Samcro's warehouse. The last year had seen an on-again, off-again tension with the rival gang and the situation had been gradually escalating to the point of all-out war. Aside from the natural disagreement regarding race and the fact that the Nords had been trying to infiltrate meth into Charming for years, they'd somehow managed an uneasy co-existence. In fact, in effort to maintain some semblance of peace, the two rivals staged a Saturday night boxing league just outside of town on neutral territory but it had quickly corroded into an excuse to beat the shit out of each other without someone ending up in lock-up for the night, not to mention a healthy payday for the winning side.

This wasn't so much an act of war but a provocation—Samcro had just moved their supply to their buyer, rendering it empty and the damage in storage only. The Nords had obviously done their homework. It was clear Darby wanted to force Samcro's hand and make the Sons be the first to draw blood but that wasn't gonna happen anytime soon. They were smarter than that and the last thing they wanted was the culpability of bringing war to Charming's streets. But the Nords were bound to irrevocably fuck up beyond the level of Samcro's tolerance and eventually, Charming would only have room for one gang of outlaws.

As the streets of Charming came flying back at him, he felt more and more on edge. Clay wasn't going to be pushed to a retaliation because that was exactly what Darby wanted him to do—but that didn't make it any easier to stand by and watch Samcro property blown to pieces. His thoughts and his Dyna were halted by a red light at an intersection only a few miles away from TM. He recognized the choked muffler and the loud rumbling of an overheated engine before he saw the '97 Camaro pull up next to him at the light.

Eric Miles, second-in-command for the Nords, grinned back at him from the driver's side as he thrust a swastika-tattooed arm on the edge of the window, running his hand along the side of the car. Miles was under the impression that his barely running beer can of a car was worthy of street racing and was often heard bragging about how much he loved the piece of shit—it was more fun to let him think that than to take pains in correcting the mistake. The sun was just at the right angle to reflect directly off his shiny, shaved head and right in Jax's eyes, making him squint with barely restrained fury.

If there was anyone in Charming that was a bigger piece of shit than Ernest Darby, it was undeniably Miles—the poster boy for spewing the most bigoted, white supremacist bullshit he'd ever heard in his life. But more than that, the over-confidence, the cockiness, the self-satisfied smirk that reflected his unshakable, ridiculous belief that he owned this town—it all made Jax's blood simmer every time they were within eyesight of each other. At least Darby had the fallback of being old and set in his ways for his fucked up beyond all recognition outlook on society—Miles had no excuse.

"Heard about that little accident you guys had outside of town," Miles shot out from his shitty car. "What a shame, huh? All that storage space just blown to pieces."

Jax's upper lip curled up into a slight snarl as he eyed the adversary to his right. "A real shame. Guess we're just gonna have to start using your mom's basement—she seemed pretty eager to help me out last night; I'm sure she'd be willing to oblige me again tonight."

Mile's hand fisted into the side of the Camaro and Jax grinned back him as he basked in his easy victory. It didn't take much to ruffle his feathers and mother insults—albeit cheap insults—always seemed to get under his skin when Jax was too tired or lazy to come up with something more inventive.

At this point, the light had flashed green but both held their ground.

"Just keep talkin', Teller," Miles growled back. "We'll see who's laughing when those stupid Spicks drop your business like a bad fuckin' habit."

"Well," Jax shot back, his eyes glinting into a hard glare as he spoke. He could feel his blood pressure rising with each passing moment. "Considering that's the best you can come up with, I don't see any problems in our foreseeable future, do you?"

Miles opened his mouth to deliver what would've surely been a lesser, half-brained comeback of epic proportions but his mouth quickly snapped shut as Deputy Hale's Jeep pulled up across from them.

"Move along, fellas," Hale yelled out to them. "I don't have time to haul both your asses to the precinct if you idiots decide to start pummeling each other."

Jax rolled his eyes to the sky and blew out a frustrated breath. Just when this exchange was starting to get interesting…Captain America had to show up and take the wind out of his sail. But for all intents and purposes, he and Miles were done here anyways. So instead of making a scene, he flashed Hale a mock salute and sent his Dyna forward and towards the clubhouse. Miles flipped him off as he turned the corner and although Jax knew it was intended to be taken seriously, he couldn't stop himself from laughing right in Mile's line of vision despite the spiking adrenaline running through him. Luckily, he only had to wait three more days until the next fight night. Miles was due to lose a few teeth.

By the time he pulled into TM's parking lot, all he wanted was a stiff drink—preferably Jack—and a croweater to work off some of this aggression and adrenaline—preferably a brunette…there was just a larger population of them in the clubhouse. Bobby pushed a shot glass his way when he settled into a stool at the bar with a grim smile.

"Even shittier in person, huh?" Bobby asked.

Jax just nodded a silent response and downed the shot, slamming it back down on the counter for another.

"Church in thirty," Bobby went on as he filled Jax's shot glass back up to the top.

"What's the point?" Jax retorted bitterly.

Bobby filled up his shot glass with a huff. "We've voted on this already, Jax—you know it, I know it, we all know it—until the day Darby brings meth into Charming, we gotta sit tight. No need to lose your head over an empty warehouse."

Jax tipped the glass back and felt a little less anxious as the shot burned down his throat. "At some point, the fucker's gonna take a step too far and then we'll be wishin' we'd nipped this in the bud when we had the chance."

"And when that time comes, we'll hash it out at the Redwood, Jax." Bobby pushed a beer bottle at him as he spoke.

"Now, I know today has been a little rough," Tig sat down next to Jax as he spoke, an evil, wily glint in his eye. "But the night is gonna be so much better."

Jax's eyebrows rose at the suggestion. Whatever he had in mind probably wasn't good. Besides, it was only a Wednesday. The club wasn't planning to let loose until Friday—which meant that this night was going to eventually lead them outside the clubhouse. It was usually in everyone's best interest if the drunken stupidity was restrained inside the walls of the clubhouse.

"Oh yeah?" Bobby shot back, slinging a towel over his shoulder in mild frustration. "Why's that, my sick, twisted friend?"

Tig smirked with an arched eyebrow and smacked his hands down on the counter. "A little bird told me Darby's niece got a job bartending at Lucky's—guess when her first night is?"

"Let me guess," Jax tilted his head to the side as he spoke, already liking where this was headed. "Tonight?"

"Right on the money, bro!" Tig clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I say we take a little trip down to Lucky's and see where the night takes us. Maybe a little heckling, a little trash-talking—we'll leave her a nice big tip of course—and maybe if I'm really lucky, I'll cop a feel or something."

"And have Darby kicking down your door in the morning?" Bobby shook his head. "That sounds like real fun, Tig, you stupid idiot."

Tig's hands shot up in the air in mock-defense. "Alright, fine. No grab-hands. But I can heckle her a little bit, right? That'll be fun…besides, I'm really itchin' to see what this broad looks like. You see her around town yet, Jax?"

He just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "Nah…I gotta say though, I'm kinda surprised Darby would let her work at Lucky's of all places. It's not really on his side of town."

"I don't really care," Tig shrugged. "I'm just interested in havin' a little fun with her tonight _and_ gettin' under Darby's skin. Whatta ya say, brothers? You in? Let's round up Chibs, Ope, and the prospect too while we're at it. Make it more of a family affair."

"You really are a sick bastard," Bobby shook his head. "You go have your fun—I'm not interested in getting mixed up in that shit tonight."

Tig elbowed Jax with a suggestive wink. "You in or what, Jax?"

Jax pushed back on the edge of the bar as he weighed his options. He didn't know much about Darby's niece and he wasn't even entirely sure on her first name. He thought they were around the same age but again, wasn't positive on the details. All he knew was that Darby's wife had recently passed from breast cancer and now his niece was back in town. It was rumored that Darby had bribed her back to Charming with a rent-free house—but the reasons for the bribe went from everything to her prostituting herself for the Nords' profit to her taking care of her sixteen year old cousin. He figured the latter was probably closest to the truth and knowing Darby, he had no business being the sole care-taker of a teenager. But there'd also been rumors that Miles had taken an interest in her—which peaked Jax's interest as well.

As much as he wanted to do something, anything to lash out at Darby for his little warehouse stunt, he wanted to piss Miles off more. He took great pleasure in stepping into the make-shift ring with Miles any chance he got. They were pretty equally matched in both size and skill so it wasn't always a guaranteed victory but he relished in every connected punch because the fucker deserved it. But this trip to Lucky's could be just as satisfying as a turn in the ring with him.

A slow smile crept onto his face the more he thought about the prospect in front of him. Sure, he could stay at the clubhouse and fulfill his original plan of Jack and croweater. But this was a little more enticing. And Plan A would still be waiting for him when they got back from Lucky's. Besides, he didn't necessarily want to provoke anything with Miles that went beyond the boxing ring; he just wanted to piss him off.

"Yeah, bro," he grinned back at Tig. "I'm in."

* * *

Although Ava had worked in her fair share of dive bars in college, Lucky's was the dive bar to end all dive bars. The "u" in the fluorescent sign hanging above the entrance was flickering and the "k" was a complete lost cause. The inside, she remembered from her interview—and she was still a little surprised that the owner, Ray, had gone through that kind of formality at such a fine establishment—was comprised of sticky tiled floors, a musty-stale beer odor, peeling bar stools, and plenty of pool tables to spare. It was exactly the kind of bar one would expect to find in abundance in a town like Charming, albeit the kind of job she thought she'd left behind in San Francisco.

But, she reminded herself, she was here to make sure Allie made it out of Charming in one piece. And she'd taken this job to completely piss off her uncle.

She smiled to herself as she walked inside Lucky's for her first shift, remembering the absolute fury in her uncle's beet red face when she'd snidely told him where she would be working. He'd been appropriately infuriated by her choice to work closer to the south side of Charming—Samcro territory—as opposed to a more northern, Nord-approved establishment.

Of course, he couldn't have cared less that she would be bartending—which spoke volumes about his reasoning for coaxing her back to Charming…nothing but complete and total disregard for anyone but himself and his agenda. There was no love lost between her and Uncle Ernest and he'd all but ignored her presence until that asshole Eric Miles started eyeing her up. His eyes had roamed over her like she was something to be eaten, sending bile right up in her throat. If it hadn't been the shaved head and swastika tattoos enveloping his arms, it was the way he'd tried to lecture her about the "innate desire within each soul to be white" that sent her high-tailing it out of the room. But every time she'd been forced in the same room with him since then, she could feel his eyes on her with every move she made. She'd be lying to herself if she said it wasn't scary. It was clear, however, when good ol' Uncle Ernest practically pushed her into Miles' lap what his plan for her was.

And since he was basically holding his own daughter hostage, she rebelled the only real way she could—by making sure she'd be working in a place frequented by his enemy. She'd reasoned to him that there weren't that many places she could work in Charming where she _wouldn't _run into any members of Samcro. He bristled at that but eventually dropped it because she was right. He had launched into his usual rant and rave about how Samcro was the devil and nothing but scum who sold their merchandise to the highest bidder. She didn't bother pointing out that he was essentially doing the exact same thing with her but knew it was a moot point. She knew she'd bargained Allie's soul for hers and there would be no negating on that arrangement on either side.

Allie was only sixteen years old—barely had her driver's license—and she was innocent in all this. She didn't deserve the hand she'd been dealt in life or what her monstrous father was capable of. What she deserved was a fighting shot at a life free of Ernest Darby and his street gang of white supremacists and Ava knew her cousin didn't stand a chance if she remained in Charming by herself. So when her uncle had come to her with his proposition of free rent in exchange for 'helping him' with Allie, she'd read the sinister motive behind his words.

Ava knew well enough why her uncle had suddenly upped the ante and promised her Allie would be allowed to go to any college she wanted to after she graduated high school—she had to "play by his rules", as he'd said. And with that, she'd made an unspoken deal with the devil.

While she didn't need the free rent, she'd take it if he was offering, considering she knew exactly why she was here. She figured she might as well enjoy some fringe benefits while she could but at the end of the day, her chief concern was keeping her cousin safe and ushering her out of Charming the second she turned eighteen. She hadn't yet worked out an exit strategy for herself but that was the least of her worries at this point.

Her aunt, Anna, had been something of a guardian angel to her as a child. She'd only been twelve years old when her mom died and since they were the only other family she had in Charming, she'd moved in with Uncle Ernest and Aunt Anna. While Auntie Anna had been warm, welcoming, and protective, Uncle Ernie had only seen her as a potential bargaining chip—by the time she reached thirteen, he had her serving his men drinks at the Nords' headquarters in as little clothes as possible. While Anna hadn't been able to do much about that, she'd flown into a rage when she found out her uncle had pushed his fourteen year old niece into a secluded room with one of his 'associates'—she'd burst into the room and gotten her out of there but it still a few moments too late. She still wasn't entirely sure what Anna had threatened him with but, two days later, Anna was driving her to San Francisco. Anna's best friend from high school, Isabella—and years of therapy—were waiting for her.

And while she was positive her aunt had protected Allie with the same fierceness, Anna was dead now. There was no one there to make sure she had as normal and safe a childhood as possible while living under Ernest Darby's roof. Isabella had fought her tooth and nail on her decision to move back to Charming but her resolve had held strong. In the end, Allie was her last true family left and she couldn't sit back and allow her be marooned in Charming with no hope of escape. She owed Anna that much.

Ava had often wondered how a sweet, beautiful, and caring woman like Anna could've not only been married to someone like Ernest Darby but actually stayed with him as long as she did. But when she considered what her uncle was holding over her head, she realized that maybe the women in this family didn't have many choices. Women were just pawns to him, bargaining chips to serve whatever purpose suited him at the time and she wouldn't underestimate the fact that her uncle would not hesitate to serve his own sixteen year old daughter up on a silver platter if the situation called for it.

When she realized she still had a few minutes before her shift started, she darted into the bathroom to give herself a quick once-over. She didn't normally dress provocatively in her free time but she'd learned from plenty of experience working in bars that the more cleavage and leg you showed, the more tips ended up in your pocket at the end of your shift. It was pretty much the number one rule in the female bartender playbook. Rule number two: flirt, flirt, and flirt. Rule number three: always keep the bouncer within eyesight.

She carefully adjusted her black tube top that showed just enough of her midriff. Wanting to make a good impression on the regulars, she'd thrown on a tight jean skirt for good measure. After a quick reapplication of lip gloss and one more layer of mascara, she was satisfied with the image she would be projecting tonight—hot and accessible but not _too _accessible.

When she re-emerged from the bathroom and headed towards the bar, Ray was already there waiting for her. He immediately launched into a laundry list of tasks that needed to be completed before it got crowded and being no stranger to this, she easily fell into step behind him. When customers began to trickle inside, she knew that although it had been a little while since she'd worked in a bar, serving drinks was going to be like riding a bike. It was just something she'd always know how to do and she was good at it.

By 10:00, the bar was pretty crowded but between her and Ray, they still managed the in-flow of customers without the help of a third bartender. Her tip jar already had a nice stack of bills in it and she still had about four hours left to go which was a good sign for future shifts. The regulars seemed to like her and Ray had told her more than once how grateful he was to have an experienced bartender with him. Over all, she was happy with the decision to work at Lucky's.

But when the door swung open and five Reaper cuts passed through the threshold, she could feel a change in the air. The other customers didn't necessarily seem to mind that they were here and she figured it was most likely because they were used to Samcro's proximity. This was really more their side of Charming anyways so it was only fair that they were there. And she'd known this when she applied for a job at Lucky's. But now that she was actually faced with them being here, a fluttering of uneasiness shot down through her stomach.

As they staked their claim on a booth and a pool table directly across from the bar, she tried to figure out who each one was as inconspicuously as possible. She didn't really need them knowing she was observing them as their reaction to her being on their side of town still remained to be seen. But as she eyed them carefully from the safety behind the bar, the pieces slowly clicked into place.

Of the five Samcro members who'd entered the bar, she thought she recognized three of them. While it'd been eleven years since she'd lived in Charming, she'd still been aware of the MC's members, courtesy of her uncle drilling the roster into her so she knew exactly who to avoid in Charming and why. The older one with black wiry hair and even blacker beady eyes had to be Tig Traeger. She vaguely recalled her uncle saying that Tig was a loose cannon and certifiably insane but considering his own track record in that arena, she figured she'd make up her own mind regarding the characters who were currently setting up a pool game.

The tallest one with his hair tucked away in a brown beanie was probably Opie Winston and the one with shaggy blonde hair was most likely Jax Teller. She'd never officially met either of them as she had attended grade school on the north side of town while they'd went to the one in the south but if she'd stayed in Charming long enough for high school, they all would've been in the same class. She'd just gotten mere glimpses—the back of a head here and there and she vaguely remembered seeing Jax in the grocery with his mom but then she'd quickly steered them away from her and her aunt without so much as a nod in acknowledgment.

Opie had grown into a good-looking man but was still the quintessential image of a rough around the edges biker, a little greasy, a little dangerous but yet still maintained something of a teddy-bear quality. Jax, on the other hand, was a different story altogether. He looked more like he belonged on a billboard than a motorcycle and everything about him just screamed sex from the shattering blue eyes to the California-boy surfer hair to the cocky, self-assured swagger of a man who was used to getting what he wanted. And she hadn't missed the way his eyes had flicked up and down her body in an easy, experienced appraisal and she was well aware that his eyes had never seemed to stray too far from her after that.

"Hey, Ava?" Ray's voice startled her and she quickly turned on her heel to face him. "I think I just heard some glass breakin' back by the jukebox—would you mind cleanin' it up over there?"

She shrugged, grateful for a chance to get behind the bar and move around a little bit more. "Sure, no problem."

Then she realized that the jukebox was only about three feet away from the Samcro area of the bar. She could handle this and she'd known that working at this particular bar would put her right in their line of vision. This was what she'd wanted, right? She needed to own up to that and hold her own. Besides, she had a feeling anything they did or said would, for the most, be pretty harmless. Samcro was more known for gun-smuggling and not man-handling non-consenting women. They didn't scare her nearly as much as her uncle and his gang of bigots did.

With that newfound resolve, she gathered up the broom and duster and faced them head-on. Well, not entirely head-on because she did everything in her power to ignore them, focusing on anything and everything that wasn't the Reaper cuts next to the jukebox.

But their heads had still turned as she began to sweep up the mess next to them. She braced herself for the inevitable and, fortunately enough, she didn't have to wait all that long.

The black haired one—she was still thinking he was Tig Traeger—waved her over with a quick flick of his wrist and a slightly evil smirk on his face. She tried to hide the quick, anxious exhale of breath as she finished sweeping up the last shards of glass and headed towards their booth. Opie and one of the men she didn't recognize—she was sure she'd have remembered those facial scars—were in the middle of a pool game which left Tig, Jax, and a younger-looking one with the tattooed head sitting in the booth right next to the jukebox.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Tig purred when she was standing in front of their booth. She tried to hide the way her eyebrows rose in annoyance at his terminology and for a brief moment, her eyes flitted to Jax, who was smirking up at her with a predatory glint in his eyes.

"My buddies and I have been sittin' here arguing about somethin' since the second we walked in here," Tig continued. "And I was hopin' you could help us settle it."

She nodded knowingly and gripped the broom in her hand a little tighter. "And what's that?"

"Well, we were wondering if you were really Darby's niece because there's no way that ugly bastard could actually be related to someone as smokin' hot as you."

A round of laughter and snickers echoed from the men sitting in front of her as well as behind her and she pushed out an exasperated exhale, bringing a hand to her hip. That was the best they could come up with? She figured she had one of two options here; she could be offended and set herself up for an unspecified amount of hounding and heckling from here on out or she could play their game and just go with it.

"Well," Ava shot back with a playful shrug. "I guess we have Uncle Ernie's smokin' hot sister to thank for that one."

She smirked victoriously when Tig's eyes widened in surprise at her response—he'd clearly not expected her to actually play his game.

Jax barked out a laugh as his eyes danced with an interesting mix of appreciation and surprise. "Uncle Ernie?"

"He doesn't really like the nickname but I guess I don't really care." She shrugged, careful not to let her eyes linger on Jax for too long.

"I'm gonna have to remember that," Tig laughed, having recovered from his shock.

"But really guys," she delivered the next blow. "We all know you knew exactly who I was before you even got here—which isn't really fair since I haven't been formally introduced to any of you yet."

Tig made a tsk-tsk sound and quickly held out a hand for her to shake. "Well, sweetheart, let's rectify that situation right now. My name's Tig—welcome back home to Charming."

She good-naturedly extended her hand and shook his. "Ava-nice to officially meet you."

Jax's hand shot out to her and she gingerly slid her hand into his waiting one.

"Jax—nice to officially meet you too," he said with a wink. "You have a beautiful name, darlin'."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and took her hand back. Like she'd never heard that one before. Maybe someone who looked like him could afford to recycle old material but that was just plain lazy. She was quickly introduced to the remaining members of the party—Opie, the scarred man who she learned was named Chibs and had a thick Irish accent, and the tattoo head, who was introduced to her simply as 'the prospect'.

"So we gonna be seein' you around at the fight nights? Or is your uncle plannin' on keepin' you locked in your tower every Saturday?" Tig was asking her now.

She just shrugged. "I've been told to make some appearances, yes."

"Let me guess," Jax started with a smirk. "You'll be sittin' with the Eric Miles fan club?"

This time, she couldn't stop her eyes from narrowing. She knew better than to reveal this much, given her audience, but any mention of Hitler-in-training was enough to make her blood simmer.

"I'm not in anyone's fan club," she shot back icily.

Jax held his hands up in the air, his eyebrows lifting into his forehead. "Sorry, darlin'. Didn't realize he was such a sore subject for ya."

That didn't even begin to scratch the surface of the loathing she felt for Eric Miles but there was no way she was going to say that in front of five members of Samcro. But she reminded herself that they were also paying customers and she still needed to earn a tip from them by the night's end.

"Well," she plastered on a grin as she spoke to change the subject. "I need to head back to the bar—I think I've abandoned Ray a little too long. Any refills I can get you though?"

She mentally recorded their requests and carefully stepped away from their booth, leaving them back to their pool games and conversations even though she knew her interactions with them for the night were far from over. But all in all, it hadn't been that bad. They had, for the most part, been friendly and harmless, just as she'd thought.

"I see you met our distinguished customers," Ray muttered to her over his shoulder when she was back behind the bar. "They gonna be a problem for us tonight?"

"No," she quickly waved it off, not wanting her new boss to already develop some agitation over her unfortunate heritage. "They were fine. No problems here."

"Good to hear," Ray replied, gesturing with his head as he spoke. "Because you've got a customer waitin' for you."

She quickly nodded, eager to get back to work and when she turned in the direction Ray had pointed her, she found herself face to face with Jax Teller. He was waiting patiently for her attention, leaning against the bar on his elbows with a lazy, cocky smirk slipping over his features. It seemed he had no intention of letting her off easy on her first night.

Great.

* * *

Jax waited, unfazed by her stunted silence, and the longer he waited, the greater the thrill of the chase became. While he'd be the first to admit he'd only come to Lucky's that night for some fun and to ruffle Miles' feathers by their presence that was before he'd laid eyes on her. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd been expecting in Ernest Darby's niece but he'd been more than pleasantly surprised in what he'd found.

Tig hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said she was smokin' hot. But that labeling didn't completely cover the whole package. He had zeroed in on her immediately and had drunk in the sight of her behind the bar with eager excitement—long blonde hair that fell in loose ringlets down her back, a pair of blue eyes that sparked with she spoke, nice rack, nice legs, tight body and he appreciated every inch of creamy skin that she'd decided to show. Her flippant handling of Tig and their subsequent exchange was definitely a surprise; she had somehow managed to turn the tables on Tig, who for all his pomp and circumstance had most definitely not been expecting her to give back what he'd dished out inch for inch.

But what had really peaked his interest was her subtle digs at both her uncle and Miles. She was clearly not a fan of either but seemed to hold Miles in the lowest regard which made him rethink his original reasoning for coming to Lucky's tonight. From the little he'd already seen, he knew she was gorgeous and funny and smart and that Miles wanted her—it was easy to see why. And from the little she'd divulged it was clear that she hated him in return.

Even if Miles had had her already—and Jax suspected he hadn't—the prospect of fucking her right under Miles' nose was too good to pass up without at least trying. He knew he wouldn't be able to tell Miles outright—that would be overstepping the invisible line drawn between the two rivals just a little bit too far—but it was a small price to pay. He'd always have the knowledge that he'd gotten what Miles couldn't have—and maybe never would—and it would be a sweet, sweet victory. It would make his punches in the ring with Miles all the more satisfying and any interactions with him all the more entertaining because he'd know exactly what the object of Miles' desire looked like naked, what she tasted like, and the face she made when she came.

So he figured he'd throw out a line and see if she took the bait.

"Well, darlin'," he said finally. "Since we ordered such an obscene amount of alcohol, I figured the least I could do was come over here and help you carry it all."

She rolled her eyes but her smile still reached her eyes, which he knew was a good sign. "Thanks but I think I'll be able to get it all."

He leaned forward on his elbows with a smirk. "Well, I'll be right here if you need me."

She sent him an exasperated look from underneath her thick, black eyelashes and he felt his lips curl up into a sly smile. She was going to be a challenge but easy conquests weren't all that much fun anyways. It had been a while since he'd actually have to work for it a little and he knew he was up to the task. Besides, this victory over Miles would be all the more sweet.

"Thanks." She pushed out through clenched teeth.

Maybe he needed a different approach.

"I was really sorry to hear about your aunt. She was a real nice lady."

It was a different approach but it was still genuine too. Anna Darby had somehow managed to rise above her husband's reputation in town and in a lot of ways, had rivaled his mother in the competition to see which matriarch could do the most philanthropy work—between charities and fundraisers, she'd proven to be kind-hearted and generous where her husband was cold and hateful. That hadn't gone unnoticed by anyone in Charming, including Samcro, and whenever he'd seen her around town—which honestly, hadn't been all that often-he'd always made sure to show her the respect she deserved.

Ava smiled sadly and he was grateful she seemed to realize he was being sincere. "Yeah she was—thanks."

"So how you like bein' back in Charming?" He figured she needed the change in subject.

She just shrugged as she continued working on their drink order. "Well, considering it's exactly the same as when I left it—it's fine."

As he considered her words, he briefly wondered what it must be like to have Ernest Darby as a family member and then shuddered at the thought. He didn't envy her at all and as the mirthless expression in her eyes registered, he realized that having Darby as a family member was probably akin to a prison sentence. He wasn't about to make apologies for anything Samcro had done in the past—the gun-running, the necessary violence—it was all part of the life and they'd always been a family, albeit a dysfunctional one. But the Nords were a different story altogether. Darby enjoyed killing and he took pains to torture his victims as much as possible and had little care for the damage left in his wake. Of course, his outlook on the human race didn't make him any easier to tolerate. Darby was ruthless and cruel and Jax couldn't imagine a scenario where Ava was actually being treated well by her uncle.

"How long has it been since you were here?"

She bit her lip and maintained focused on filling the glasses in front of her. "Uh…eleven years."

"You know, I've been tryin' to think if I'd seen you around before you left town but I honestly can't remember."

"It was a long time ago," she shrugged. "But I think we would've been in the same class in high school if I hadn't left, though."

His eyebrows rose at that. So they _were_ the same age. He wasn't sure why that mattered but he filed it away in his memory anyways.

"Huh," he offered and rolled back on his heels in thought. "So you must've gone to Charming North for grade school, right?"

"Right," she nodded with a slight smile and he was grateful he'd been able to keep her talking.

"Where did you live after you left?"

"I was in San Francisco, went to college there, and…"

"And worked in your fair share of fine establishments like this one," he cut in with a wink. This clearly wasn't her first go-round behind a bar.

Her eyebrows rose at his observation and she tilted her head to the side with a playful eye narrowing. "Oh really? What makes you say that?"

"Come on, darlin'," he leaned forward a little more. "A girl who'd never been behind a bar before might be able to figure out on her own to wear somethin' a little, I don't know, eye-catching, but she definitely wouldn't know to wear comfortable shoes."

She abruptly looked down at her feet—he'd immediately noticed the Puma tennis shoes the second she'd stepped foot from behind the bar—and then she was looking back at him, her bottom lip caught underneath a front tooth and her lips curled up in an almost sheepish smile. He felt a familiar stirring in his stomach at her expression and found himself rooted in front of her, willing to say anything to keep her talking to him just a little bit longer.

She held her hands up a little with shy smile. "Guilty as charged, I guess."

"Don't worry, darlin'," he grinned back to her. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Now I'll be able to sleep at night so thanks for that," she laughed.

There was something about the way her head tilted back when she laughed that made his heart clench in his chest and he subconsciously realized that the longer he'd been standing there talking to her, the further he'd been leaning over the edge of the bar.

"Glad to know you'll be thinkin' about me when you fall asleep at night." He winked which earned him a head shake and a low chuckle. "So you moved to San Francisco, went to college, and now you're back…any reason in particular or you just missed Uncle Ernie?"

"Well, someone has to look out for my cousin and I'm the only sane family member she has left." She replied with slight shrug.

"So the rumors are true then."

She frowned a little and then a look of realization crossed her face. "Ah…I forgot how small this town really is."

"Well," he replied good-naturedly. "Considering no one can walk their dog around here without someone knowing and talking about it, I wouldn't worry too much. People are assholes by nature—don't take it personal, darlin'."

She set another glass on the tray and he noticed she'd been moving a little bit slower as their conversation progressed. "So what else did you hear? Wait…let me guess, my uncle is starting an escort service and he recruited me as his first 'employee'? Or no...he's sold me into sexual slavery?"

"Sexual slavery? I don't know about you but I kinda like the sound of that."

He was testing the waters here and wanted to see how far she'd let him push. He got an eye roll for his efforts but she still hadn't completely blown him off yet which all in all, was a good sign.

"But seriously, darlin'," he went on with a chuckle. "Does it really matter what people are sayin'? You've got your own reasons for doin' whatever it is that you're doin' and I for one, am glad you're back in town."

Her left eyebrow arched up into her forehead and her lips curved into a sexy smirk. "Oh really? Why's that?"

He met her head-on and shrugged. "Because now I get to engage in stimulating conversations like this with ya on a regular basis—besides, this place was beginning to feel too much like a sausage fest."

"And my, um, relatives here in Charming—that doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it bother me?" He asked with a sly smirk. The way this conversation was headed—all signs pointed to a grand slam. "Do _my_ 'relatives' bother you?"

She just shrugged. "Not really—but I'm also not mixed up in all that shit either. You guys have been at each other's throats for a while, right? Doesn't that make all interactions with the enemy off-limits?"

"I don't consider you the enemy, darlin'—just your uncle and his lapdog."

"Good to know," she shot back, her eyes sparking as she spoke.

Then she finished putting the massive collection of beer bottles, mixed drinks, and shot glasses on the tray, hoisted it up to her shoulder like the seasoned bartender she was, and stepped around the bar to deliver the order to their booth. He wasted no time in following closely on her heels.

* * *

The cool night air was a welcome relief as she stepped outside. Even though it was getting near closing time, Ray had gently nudged her outside for a quick break. When business had picked up earlier in the night, there hadn't been much time for her step away for anything other than a quick trip to the ladies' room. But now that it was slowing down, Ray insisted that she at the very least get some air. And after a whirlwind of a first shift, she was grateful for some time to just get out of there for a few minutes.

What she really needed right now was a cigarette. She'd slipped down the smoking rabbit hole during college and had promptly worked through quitting after her last bartending job. Now, it seemed like she was quickly falling back into old habits—even though she knew she had to be careful never to let Allie catch her with a cigarette.

She was making a mental note to swing by a gas station on her way home when the door breezed open, making her jump at the sound.

"Sorry," Jax smirked as he ran a hand through his overly long surfer hair. "Didn't mean to scare ya. You on break or you waitin' on a ride?"

"Ray pushed me outside for some air." She replied softly, carefully eyeing the cigarette he was currently brining up to his lips.

He must've caught on because he was now digging into his back pocket and held an open cigarette pack out to her with a knowing grin. She gingerly closed the small space between them to slide one out of the pack and he held out an open flame to help her light it.

"Thanks," she exhaled after blowing out the much needed intake. She could immediately feel herself relaxing despite the underlying nagging at her conscience for taking up smoking again. But, she figured, she'd already made some decisions in the last few weeks that were most likely going to prove to be bad for her, so why not add one more?

"No problem, darlin'," he grinned back to her.

They puffed away in silence for a few moments and there was something oddly comforting about his closeness to her now. It was a strange feeling—her heart was still thundering in her chest in response to his being a mere foot away but it didn't overwhelm the calm enveloping her. Maybe it was just the effects of the cigarette playing with her head.

"Hey," Jax started quietly, his body shifting towards her so she could see the flash in his eyes. "Can I ask you a question?"

She shrugged and took another quick pull from the cigarette at her lips. "Sure."

"You don't really seem to like your uncle, do you?"

She frowned and wondered what exactly would possess him to ask her a question like that. It was no secret but that didn't necessarily mean she should be discussing that with him. But there was something in his eyes she couldn't quite place and that prompted her to answer honestly. "No, not really."

"And I'm assumin' you have no use Miles either." It wasn't as much a question as statement of fact.

"You mean Baby Hitler?" She threw back and her smile widened when he chuckled at her side. "No, I can't say I care much for him either."

He nodded carefully, a slow grin spreading across his lips. A moment later, he tossed his spent cigarette into the cement at their feet and shoved his hands in his front pockets. "Let me guess, you took this job just to piss them off, right?"

"I was aware my uncle wouldn't be too happy about this choice, yes…Eric was just kinda icing on the cake, I guess."

"But you did it anyway."

She eyed him cautiously as she pulled in the last bit of the nub between her fingers. "Why does it matter?"

He shrugged and stared out into the night sky before casting a sideways glance back at her. "Just wondering how far you wanna push it. I mean, workin' on the south side of Charming is one thing but come on, if you really wanna stick it to them, you can do better than this."

"So basically you're telling me this is a pretty lame attempt at pissing my uncle off, huh?"

He shrugged again. "I wouldn't necessarily say that. I mean, you still have to be careful around him—he's a pretty unpredictable motherfucker. But you could probably get away with a little more if you wanted to."

For some reason, she was intrigued. "What would you suggest? Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Well," he blew out an exaggerated exhale as his lips curved up into a grin. "Let's just say, hypothetically speaking of course, that you decided to take it a step further. You know, as well as I do, that Samcro and the Nords have been at each other's throats, as you said earlier, and, no offense, it's common knowledge around here that Miles has been sniffin' after you like nobody's business."

He paused for a moment to see if she was following him and her head tilted to the side as her mind wrapped around his words.

"Now, let's say…hypothetically," he went on, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "That you could give Miles and your uncle the ultimate fuck you behind their backs—nothin' sweeter than that, darlin'."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "And what exactly would that entail?"

"It would involve an…uh…arrangement, so to speak, between two consenting adults who just want to blow off a little steam. The fact that no one would ever know is just…icing on the cake, like you said before."

"Let me guess," she cut in as she crossed her arms around her chest. "There might be a member of Samcro willing to help me out with that?"

He shrugged, his lips curling into a sly, almost triumphant grin. "Maybe. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds incredibly stupid. And I don't think I'm desperate enough or pissed off at my uncle enough to venture down that road."

She wanted him to know he'd overstepped and that this needed to be the end of their discussion. It was a stupid, if not poorly veiled suggestion and she didn't see the need to intentionally do something so risky. The odds of no one ever finding out didn't come close to the likelihood of her uncle's immeasurable and unpredictable wrath. Any arrangement with Jax, as begrudgingly alluring as it sounded, would be as dangerous as trusting a flimsy house of cards to stay upright. It would crumble and collapse eventually, leaving infinite damage in its wake. But for some reason, though, she wasn't as offended by the suggestion itself as she probably should be.

"Well," he shrugged. "Consider that offer indefinitely on the table, Ava. If you ever change your mind, I'm sure you'll have no problem findin' me."

She huffed a little at his bluntness and started heading back towards the front door, having heard enough.

"Thanks for your help, Jax," she called out over her shoulder with faux-sincerity. "I gotta get back to work."

He waved brightly as she pushed open the door. "Anytime, darlin'. See ya on Saturday."

* * *

**A/N-I had planned on posting this in early September but after sitting on these chapters for over a month, I got a little impatient. I'm currently working on Ch. 7 and feel pretty good about the direction this is going, thanks to a lot of help from my awesome beta, dreamer-girl-reana. That being said, I'm really looking forward to seeing this idea through-the Romeo and Juliet inspiration will be sprinkled throughout and exploring the ripple effects of the relationship in the MC world (as best as I can). There's more info about this first story on my profile as well as my plan for a trilogy if you're interested or feel free to PM if you'd like. **

**I'm really looking forward to seeing what you guys think...love it, hate it-please let me know!**


	2. Fight Night: Round One

HOUSE OF CARDS

Chapter Two

When Jax pulled TM's tow truck up to the two banged up cars currently blocking downtown Charming's main intersection, he did a quick appraisal of the damage. The silver Honda Civic didn't look too worse for the wear but the obvious culprit behind the accident, the blue Dodge Neon was in need of a new front end. The front bummer was completely smashed and curled into itself with a slight folded-up accordion effect. While he'd definitely seen worse, the owner of the Dodge was in for some hefty repair costs.

He jumped out of the truck and strode over to the sidewalk—the Dodge was the clear winner in the bid to get towed back to TM and he needed to find the owner. As he got closer, his eyes widened when he realized Darby's daughter, Allie, was standing the closest to the Dodge and seemed to be otherwise preoccupied on her phone. When he was basically standing in front her, she finally looked up and her blue eyes turned into saucers.

"I…um…Ava, I have to go—I'll call you when I get to the shop. My tow-man is here." She quickly tossed her phone into her purse before looking back up at him with barely contained excitement.

"That your Neon, little darlin'?" He grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She nodded eagerly and bit her lip in anticipation. "Yeah…I can ride with you to TM, right?"

His eyebrows rose at her forwardness and rolled back a little on his heels. Then he realized that, basically, a younger version of Ava was staring back at him. It had been a little while since he'd seen her around town and she'd sprung up into a pretty girl somewhere along the way. She and her older cousin could've easily been sisters—same long blonde hair, same crystal-clear blue eyes, same tall and slim build. And it was a little unnerving to have the underage doppelganger of the woman he'd been lusting over the past few days standing right in front of him. It kind of made him feel like a dirty old man.

Still, he saw no need to be either afraid of or unfriendly to a harmless teenager and turned on the charm. "Wouldn't have it any other way. Let's go…"

He jutted out an elbow towards the truck and gestured for her to follow him. She readily fell into step behind him and grinned like a Cheshire cat when he opened the passenger side door for her. He had a feeling it was going to be a long ride to TM.

"I wouldn't worry too much about your car," he offered once they'd gotten on the road. "Shouldn't take too long to get it up and runnin' for ya again."

Allie sighed next to him and ran a hand over her eyes. "Yeah, well, my dad is still gonna kill me, though. Can you do anything about that?"

"Sorry," he turned to her with sympathetic eyes. "Probably can't help you out there. Is he gonna be pissed about you takin' the Neon to TM?

She shrugged a little. "My insurance company told me to call you guys 'cuz you were the closest and the cheapest. He'll probably be pissed but he'll get over it eventually."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Figures. That's nice to know. So…how's your summer goin'?"

"Oh, you know, same old same old. Just counting down the days to get back to school."

He grinned again and decided to just go for it. "Bet you like havin' your cousin back in town, though, right?"

She nodded empathetically, a smile brightening her face. "Yeah…I do. After my mom, well, you know, she told me she wasn't gonna leave me here all by myself. And…she lets me stay over at her house whenever I want, so there's that too."

"Well," he reassured her. "I think she'll do a good job watchin' out for you."

"You met her?"

"A couple nights ago, yeah," he nodded with a small smile.

"At that bar, huh? She told me made a shit-ton of money there on her first night. You have anything to do with that?"

Shit, for a teenager she sure didn't miss much. She was still looking back him with a way-beyond-her- years maturity that made him a little uncomfortable. He'd thrown down a fifty dollar bill on their table that night at Lucky's-the other guys had left her a sizable tip as well but not quite to that level. He didn't necessarily plan on making a habit of it; he just figured she'd earned it and then some that particular night.

"Maybe." He shot a sly grin back to her. "But I don't think your cousin likes me too much."

"Yeah right," Allie muttered under her breath but then her cheeks flushed a little when she realized he'd caught that.

He figured if he'd unceremoniously propositioned her like he had her cousin, she might be feeling a little differently. But then again, judging by the way she was looking back at him now, maybe not. Still, he hadn't yet nailed down Ava's reaction to his suggestion. He thought he'd done a decent job of presenting it in an appealing, less offensive way and had mostly expected her to flatly turn him down. Instead of slapping him in the face or calling him out for being an asshole, she made that comment about not being quite upset with her uncle yet—which implied that his offer was worth considering if it ever came to that. But then she'd gone back inside Lucky's and basically ignored his presence for the rest of the night. He hadn't been joking when he'd said the offer would always be on the table—he couldn't imagine a situation where he wouldn't come running if she came calling to take him up on it. And that, at the very least, she seemed to have gotten loud and clear.

"Yeah, well, I think I might've said some things Wednesday night that pissed her off a little."

Allie rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Don't let her fool you—she's not as stuck-up as she looks."

"I wouldn't necessarily call her stuck-up…but what makes you say that?"

Allie shot him a knowing look. "She has a _tattoo_…when I called it a tramp stamp she got really pissed. But that's what it is so…"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He definitely hadn't been expecting that little piece of intel—she must've had it carefully tucked away in that jean skirt the other night because there was no way he would've missed that.

"But," Allie was saying now, a look of panic crossing her face. "If she finds out I told you—anyone— she'll flip…"

"Don't worry, little darlin'," he quickly recovered and flashed her a grin. "Your secret's safe with me."

The only way he was going to be mentioning that little secret was when he was seeing it in the flesh for himself.

By the time they pulled into TM's parking lot, Ava was just getting out of her Corolla—and he wondered with a smile if she'd bought a foreign car just to, once again, piss off her uncle. His heart started thundering a little bit in his chest as she walked over to the truck with an agitated expression on her beautiful features. She strode up along the passenger side of the tow truck to survey the damage on Allie's car and winced.

"Shit, Allie—you sure you're okay?"

"I told you already…I'm fine. Besides, I was being taken care of." She called out as she slid out of the truck.

Ava frowned but when she leaned her head over to see who had driven her cousin to TM, her eyes dramatically lifted to the sky.

"Thanks for all your help, Jax," Ava pushed out between clenched teeth, a thin smile pressed into her lips.

He just shrugged as he shut the driver's side door to the truck. "Just doin' my job—makin' sure Allie over here got back to you in one piece."

Her blue eyes narrowed a little at his words but she still followed them towards the office. The closer they got, the clearer Gemma's form behind the window became. His mother was not known for her tact or courtesy—especially where the Nords were concerned—but he hoped she would be able to see straight enough to realize that these girls walking next to him had nothing to do with that shit. Besides, they were paying customers so for all intents and purposes, Gemma needed to be on her best behavior.

Gemma held the office door open for them as they walked through with a friendly smile on her face. He shot her a warning look—raised eyebrows and all—and she seemed to get the memo, even putting a hand on his face for good measure to silently reassure him. Well, it was a start.

"Hey there, Allie," Gemma greeted them warmly. "Looks like you got yourself into a little fender bender, huh?"

"Hi Mrs. Morrow," Allie replied sheepishly.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," she put a hand on Allie's shoulder as she spoke. "We'll take care of everything for you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Morrow." Allie bent her head down a little.

Then his mother turned her attentions to Ava and he felt himself chewing on his bottom lip in anxious anticipation.

"You must be Ernest's niece—I'm sorry, it's been so long since I've seen you, I barely recognized you," Gemma said with no hint of cattiness or false sincerity and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Hello, Ava—nice to have you back."

Ava smiled slowly, her eyes carefully trained on the hard woman in front of her. "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Morrow."

She said that last part like she was a little uncertain of the title and then he remembered that, eleven years ago, his mom's last name was still Teller. Still, she recovered well from her surprise as they stepped deeper inside the office. When Gemma's eyes pieced through him with curiosity, he was suddenly uncomfortable standing in the same room with both Ava and his mother. He decided he'd lingered in the office long enough. The air was clear and his mom was going to play nice-that was all the reassurance he needed to get the hell out of there.

"Well," he winked playfully at the three women standing around him. "I think you ladies got it from here. I'll be in the shop if you need me."

With that, he high-tailed it back to the safety of the shop. About ten minutes later, Ava and her cousin were out of the office and headed back to the Corolla. Allie was waving back to him with a wide smile as Ava shook her head but when he caught the tiny smile spreading across her face, he figured she couldn't hate him that much if she was looking at him like that now. Maybe his initial assessment of her reaction to his proposition was, in fact, the correct one: she wasn't nearly as offended as she had acted.

When he turned back to the office, he almost yelped in surprise when he saw Gemma's unreadable face staring back at him, a hand jutted out on her hip and the other tightly clutching her glasses. Sometimes, there really wasn't anything that could scare him more.

"Hey, Jax," she called out to him, her voice even and measured. "Can I see you in the office for a second?"

Shit. He'd been an idiot for thinking she'd let him off easy.

When he walked into the office, he felt like he was ten years old again and about to be scolded for breaking one of his dad's tools—his mom was standing at the window with her hands perched on her hips and he felt himself swallow nervously.

"Yeah, Ma?"

Gemma turned on her heel, an irritated look on her face. This probably wasn't going to end well.

"You wanna explain to me what that was all about?"

"What?"

She huffed in annoyance. "Back there—with Darby's niece…what the hell was that?"

He frowned and his eyes followed Gemma's out of the window, almost taking a step back when he realized Gemma's gaze was still carefully trained on Ava and Allie as they discussed something outside of her car.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Ma."

Gemma's eyes narrowed ever so slightly and her lips pursed out in frustration. "You couldn't keep your eyes off of her the entire time you were in this office with her just now. Care to explain that?"

He shrugged and decided it would be easier for himself in the long run if he was just answered this question honestly. "She's attractive. You can't blame me for lookin', Ma."

"Is that what you boys were doing down at Lucky's Wednesday night? Just looking?" Her right eyebrow was arched up into her forehead and he felt his insides twist under the weight of her glare.

"Shit," he exhaled with a grimace. "It was just all in good fun, Mom—no one did or said anything stupid, not even Tig."

"And I'm supposed to believe that you had no other reason for going down there? That all you wanted to do was just 'have some fun'? I think you're throwing that phrase around a little too loosely, Jackson. "

"Mom—"

She held a finger up to silence him. "Keep your distance from her, Jax. I've seen that look on your face before and it's never led you to anything but god damn trouble. This time though—this time the risk isn't worth the gain just for a little 'fun'. I don't care what you say—pussy, even revenge pussy—ain't worth that shit."

He held up his hands in defense, not at all like how he'd been backed into a corner. "Give me a little credit here, alright? I haven't done anything to provoke Darby—he's the one who blew up the warehouse, he's the one who's been tryin' to start shit—not me."

"Right—and screwin' his niece behind his back, not to mention having one over Eric Miles, would feel real good, wouldn't it? Especially since Clay put a lid on retaliation?"

She'd read him like an open book.

"I'm not that stupid, Mom."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Sure, you aren't."

"Mom—"

"Listen, Jax, we all know Darby is just looking for us to make one wrong move, one little push and it could mean all-out war. We can't be responsible for bringing that into town—not after everything we've built here. No matter what happens, Jackson, you need to keep your dick in your pants when it comes to her, alright? Be smart here—it's not all about you, Jax."

"Thanks for the memo, Gemma." He shot back bitterly.

She frowned and brought a hand to his cheek. "I wasn't trying to upset you, Jax—you think I want to see you lying in the street with a bullet in your chest? Or Clay? Or anybody else?"

"I know, I know," he smiled gently into her hand.

She brought her hand back to her hip and looked back to the window with a sigh. As Ava and Allie drove off the lot, she shook her head sadly.

"I can't help but feel sorry for those two girls though," Gemma murmured. "I can't even imagine having Ernest Darby as my uncle, let alone my father—what life must be like in that house…I guess it's a good thing Ava's back in town—at least for Allie's sake."

He nodded slowly—he'd been thinking about that himself ever since that night at Lucky's. They were the only two women left in Darby's family and he didn't really want to think about what that meant. Ava had told him she came back to town to look out for Allie and he had every reason to believe that she was going to everything in her power to keep Allie safe from her father.

And as he headed back into the shop—needing to both get back to work and clear his head—he couldn't stop himself from wondering...who was looking out for Ava?

* * *

As Ava turned into her uncle's driveway, she felt the familiar anxiousness pulling at her insides. Every time she even came into this neighborhood, she felt completely sick to her stomach. The house itself was a whole other story. Nothing but memories waited for her there—her aunt's warm smile in the kitchen, her mom and her aunt having coffee at the table, playing with Allie as a baby. But all those paled in comparison to the darker, uglier memories that were housed within these walls. It was difficult to uphold her carefully constructed defenses whenever she walked down the main hallway.

All they needed was five minutes, she reminded herself. At least that was what Allie had promised her. For a moment, she contemplated just waiting in the car but then thought better of it. And of course, Uncle Ernest was waiting for them in the doorway, dirty wife beater and all.

"Where were you ladies all day?"

He was pretending to be nice—she knew this tone. He wanted something.

"Hey dad," Allie pushed out brightly, putting on just as much of an act as him. "I…um…I might've gotten in a little fender bender today."

He exhaled loudly, an annoyed, grim line pressing across his lips. "Great—how much is that gonna cost me?"

"I'll pay for it, Dad," Allie explained quickly. "It was my fault—I was on my phone and I shouldn't have been…I know all that. They said it would only take a couple of days—"

Her uncle's eyes narrowed into black slits and Ava immediately swung into survival mode.

"_Who _said?"

"She said she's going to pay for it—you don't have to worry about it. It's not your problem," Ava cut in, quickly pushing Allie past her red-faced father and into the house.

"Like hell it's not—you took that pile of shit to Teller-Morrow, didn't you?" He didn't even wait for either of them to answer. "What have I told you? Never give those fuckers any business—they'll rob you blind. You can't trust them to give you a fair price on anything—"

"Uncle Ernest," Ava cut him off. "Your insurance company told Allie to bring her car there because they were the closest _and _the cheapest. What else was she supposed to do? Besides, like I said, you're not paying for it. Let it go."

After letting out a slew of curses, he turned on his heel and stormed into the kitchen. She waited uneasily in the living room as Allie scurried into her room to pack a bag.

"Ava?" Her uncle called from in the kitchen. "You takin' Allie somewhere?"

"She's going to stay with me for the rest of the weekend," she called back, not wanting to venture into the kitchen for fear he might actually try to extend this conversation.

In light of the car accident, albeit minor and not being paid for out of her uncle's check book, she didn't trust her uncle alone with Allie. She'd promised her that her dad had never been physical with her and maybe that was true but Ava knew how well her uncle played emotional warfare and wasn't about to take the chance.

Unfortunately, he sauntered out of the kitchen as he scratched his neck, beer in hand. "Oh…I see. Well—I need you to come to the fight tonight."

She immediately shook her head—she'd purposely asked Ray to schedule her at the bar so she would be unavailable. "I can't…I'm working until close tonight."

Her uncle nodded slowly and she felt a cold shiver shoot down her body when she realized what the look in his eyes meant. The cold, calculating—almost menacing—expression emanating from his eyes was one she was very familiar with.

"Tell Ray you won't be able to make it in tonight—you need to be there. Miles and Teller are in the ring and we've got a lot of money on the line with this one. You need to be there."

She didn't even need to guess why. Once again, he was going to push her at Eric Miles tonight—whether it was for comfort or celebratory purposes remained to be seen.

"I told you—I'm working. Maybe if you'd given me a little more notice I could've—"

"Well," her uncle cut in, a hard glare steeling into his eyes. "If you're busy tonight, maybe Allie should go instead. After all—if you're working, you won't be at the house anyways tonight. She might as well go watch her dad reap a shit-ton of money when Miles knocks Teller down."

Somehow, she had a feeling it was going to be the other way around. But then the weight of his words swarmed around her and the room began to feel a little smaller. It was a struggle to breathe as she dared to meet her uncle's maliciously triumphant grin. His objective was clear—one of them was going to be Miles' reward for his performance tonight and it was either going to be her or her sixteen-year-old cousin. And she knew Allie wouldn't be able to figure out how to get herself out of this potentially dangerous situation.

"I'll find someone to take my shift." She murmured softly.

"There," he grinned back to her. "That wasn't so hard, right? Make sure you're at the ring by 10:00 tonight or I'll send someone back to the house to get Allie."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. When she and Allie walked into her house about a half hour later, her hands were still shaking.

"So you're not going to work tonight then?" Allie called from the second bedroom, which, for all intents and purposes, was really her bedroom.

She frowned from the living room and bit her lip, wondering how much Allie had heard. "Uh…yeah. Why do you ask?"

"I heard you on the phone with your boss before," Allie shrugged when she appeared from the hallway. "Can we go to a movie or something if you're gonna be around?"

She shook her head with a sad smile. "Your dad asked me to go to the fight tonight so I guess that's what I'm doing instead. Rain check on that movie."

"Oh...is that why you were acting weird when we left my house? You looked really pale, Ava. And you were really quiet…it was kinda scary." Allie said quietly as she sat down next to her on the couch.

The last thing she wanted to do was alert her cousin to what she'd signed herself up for that night. So she just shrugged. "Nah…you know I just don't like being in that house."

Allie nodded slowly. "Okay…hey, but at least you get to see Jax Teller with his shirt off tonight. I heard he's freakin' ripped and he usually wins too…he is so gorgeous."

"Yeah, well, I guess that's my consolation prize for missing out on that movie with you," she threw back with a genuine smile.

"You know he was asking me about you today," Allie offered lightly, coyly avoiding eye contact with her. "It was so lame—here I was so excited to be alone in a tow truck with him and all he wanted to talk about was you."

She just dramatically rolled her eyes but when she registered the dangerously mischievous look in her cousin's eyes, she knew to be worried. "Oh shit…what did you tell him?"

"Why were you acting so weird around him today at TM anyways?"

"Stop changing the subject, you brat," Ava demanded with faux-sternness. "What did you tell him?"

"Well," Allie started thoughtfully. "We talked about him leaving you a big tip at the bar, he told me he thinks you don't like him very much…I called you stuck-up and he defended your honor…yep, I think that's about it."

Ava stared at her cousin for a moment before shaking her head. She'd be willing to bet her next paycheck that only about half of that was actually true, if not twisted to serve Allie's purposes.

"You're ridiculous _and _completely full of shit. But you already knew that."

"Whatever."

* * *

When Ava arrived at the ring, the bare field was already jam-packed with beat-up, rusty cars and rows of motorcycles. She'd purposefully arrived at 10:00 on the dot and was a little disappointed to see, even from the distance of where she'd had to park, that the match hadn't started yet. But that also allowed her to take her time in sauntering up to the makeshift boxing ring—it was interesting to see everyone on their respective sides, very much like how the two rivals functioned outside of the boxing ring as well.

She'd half-expected to see police cars staked out on her way in but remembered that Samcro and the Nords were smart enough to hold these little parties outside of Charming's city limits. But she knew this wasn't going really be a party. These Saturday events were really just organized fist fights that they bet on—civilized excuses for beating the hell out of one another. If anyone else was going to be in the ring tonight, she would've been dreading every single moment spent in this field—watching guys beat the crap out of each other was not an ideal evening.

But she couldn't help the budding excitement spreading through her stomach—she hoped Eric got his ass fucking handed to him. All she had to do was contain her elation and pray Jax landed every punch he threw. Hopefully, she was in for some excellent entertainment tonight.

If she was being completely honest with herself, she knew this nervous anticipation was about more than just seeing Eric getting pounded into the ground. As much as she hated to admit it, Jax hadn't been far from her thoughts since that very eventful, stressful first shift at Lucky's. It wasn't so much the risqué proposition at the end of the night—that still, even though she knew it should, didn't really bother her all that much—it was the ease with which she'd been able to talk to him that set her off balance. What had started out as a harmless flirtation somehow morphed into a genuine conversation and even leading up to his slyly, thinly veiled suggestion, she'd had no problem being honest with someone she probably shouldn't been so honest with. Still, she couldn't quite wrap her head around it but she had a feeling that Jax knowing how she felt about her uncle and Eric wasn't the worst thing in the world. It was more like a small victory.

As she edged closer to the crowd, there was still no evidence that the fight would be starting any time soon so she took her time in walking over to the Nords' designated area. The divide was pretty severe—leather cuts on one end of the ring and white wife beaters on the other. It was an interesting contrast, one that had she not been forced to align herself with one side over the other might have been a fun exercise in observation. They were respectful of each other's space but it was easy to see that neither trusted the other. Eyes were carefully trained on the forms from across the ring and when eye contact was made, it was uneasy and fueled by competition.

By the time she approached the rusty, slightly dirty small row of bleachers on the Nords' side, her uncle had zeroed in on her presence and was already yanking her deeper into the crowd before she had a chance to say or do much of anything. He eyed her up from head to toe and when his black eyes narrowed on her outfit, she knew she'd achieved yet another small victory.

"Couldn't have taken the time to make yourself look decent, could you?" Her uncle snarled at her as he dragged her to the front end of the bleachers.

She tried to mask her smirk by biting her lip and didn't really care if she succeeded or not. She'd taken great pains in choosing an outfit that was the exact opposite of what she was expected to wear—black skinny jeans and a plain grey V-neck T-shirt. The jeans were tight enough and the T-shirt just low enough that it was still an easily sexy outfit—and she'd curled her hair in loose waves and taken time with her makeup just for good measure. It just wasn't the skin-tight skirt and non-existent top that the girls around her were wearing. For a moment, she wondered if she'd miscalculated—this outfit made her stand out like a sore thumb and she wasn't sure that was exactly what she'd intended. She'd just wanted to prove to herself and her uncle that she wasn't some plaything that could be tossed around like a toy doll.

She'd play by rules but she'd find as many ways to bend them as she could.

With that thought propelling her on, she settled into the seat in the front row that her uncle had pushed her in. She warily glanced at Eric, who was sitting a mere three feet away from her as someone bent over him to wrap his hands in white tape. His lips curved up into a grin and she suddenly felt dirty. She was going to have to shower tonight for sure to wipe away the slimy, creepy feeling his smile set into her. It was unnerving—and it made her feel sick to her stomach. Her heart sunk when he jumped up from his chair and sauntered over to her with a cocky swagger.

On Jax, the swagger suited him and, for whatever reason, was kinda sexy. She suspected some of that stemmed from the fact that he rode a motorcycle. But on Eric, it rang false—like he was trying too hard to be the tough, menacing leader of the pack and it was unconvincing at best. If anything, it just fueled the loathing she already felt for him.

She instinctively recoiled when she felt his arm slide around her shoulders and winced when her eyes connected with his ugly, hateful tattoos.

"I'm glad you made it, Ava," he was leaning down to her ear now even as she inched away from him. "It's gonna be one hell of a fucking show tonight."

"That's great," she pushed out through clenched teeth. "Good luck."

He was staring back at her like he had expected something more from her, like she was supposed to do something else. But that wasn't going to happen because she had zero intention of letting him do anything beyond the way he was touching her now. And even that was difficult to swallow. She subconsciously fingered the tube of mace in her purse and hoped she wouldn't have to use it on him tonight. She knew all she had to do was wait it out…just wait for one opening, fulfill whatever 'duty' her uncle wanted her to do, and then she'd be out of there.

Luckily for her, one of her uncle's men pulled him away so that he could finish his preparations. It was that moment that she chose to allow her eyes to wander across the ring and she practically jumped when her eyes connected with Jax's searing blue ones. He was seated almost directly across from her as Opie carefully wrapped his knuckles with white tape and his eyes remained rooted to hers with an intensity that sent a fluttering of shudders through her stomach and…shit, did he just wink at her? When his mouth twisted up into a sexy, cocky lop-sided grin, the fluttering rose up in her chest and she had to bit her lip as her own lips curved into a smile as a silent response. His grin just widened.

A few moments later, a loud whistle pierced through the air as Jax and Eric stepped into their respective sides of the makeshift ring. She listened with a little amusement as the chubby, curly-haired man in a Samcro cut read out the list of rules—it reminded her of the movie "Fight Club", which she supposed was fitting considering the circumstances and that Jax looked a little like a young Brad Pitt. All the rules were practical and logical though…no biting, no kicking, no weapons. The only surprise came when the chubby guy reminded the fighters that if the fight went on longer than an hour, it would be called off for the night and the two fighters would automatically be drafted the following Saturday to finish the match. She wondered how many times that had happened in order to force a rule like that.

Jax was bouncing up and down on his heels and stretching his neck from side to side…and then she took in the finely-tuned, hard muscles in his chest and she felt herself bite down on her bottom lip. His hair was tied back and his jeans were slung down low on his hips, exposing a good chunk of his white boxers. Eric was pounding his fists together to warm up from his end but he might've as well not even been in there—there was only one person in the ring she was focusing on. As Jax and Eric started circling each other, she was given a clear view of the Reaper tattoo on Jax's back. It should've scared her just as much as Eric's tattoos but it didn't.

She waited along with the rest of the crowd for someone to throw the first punch when Eric suddenly lunged forward, swinging his first around to connect with Jax's jaw and his head jerked back violently. She jumped at the loud crack and winced when Jax spat out blood on the dirt at their feet. There were loud cheers erupting from behind her but she could still hear the shouts of encouragement from Samcro's side—no one was really sitting anymore and she quickly stood to blend in a little more.

It didn't take Jax long to retaliate—when Eric tried to swing again, Jax easily dodged the blow and landed a quick one-two punch right into his jaw. Another round of cheers and jeers rang out from the crowd as the fighters continued to circle each other. It was amazing—she'd known Jax had some brawn underneath the plaid flannel he'd been wearing on Wednesday night but she'd never have guessed it was quite like this. The way he moved around the ring—there was an athleticism there that she hadn't expected and on some level, there was something predatory about it as well. And his sweat-sheened, rippling muscles in both his arms and his back were a sight to behold.

For every blow Eric attempted, Jax matched with equal intensity and neither showed any signs of slowing as they advanced on each other from inside the ring. It was clear they'd fought each other before—Jax easily anticipated each swung fist and Eric easily kept up with him, matching him in stamina. How much longer could they continue this way? They had already taken a short break and now time was called for another.

It was exhilarating in a way she hadn't expected. Just waiting to see what was going to happen next—who was going to hit who and how many times was Jax going to connect his fist with Eric's jaw? She had to admit…it was difficult not to cheer right along with the Samcro side every time Jax advanced on Eric, so much in fact that she had to shove her hands in her pockets to keep from clapping. She had a feeling that would be skirting along her uncle's tolerance for misbehavior a little too much.

Finally, mercifully, the curly-haired guy jumped into the ring and called time, getting in between the two fighters as he blew his whistle.

"That's it," he called out above the roar of the crowd. "Time! Both fighters get back to your ends—we'll pick this up again next Saturday—double or nothing, fellas!"

Another loud cheer erupted from around the crowd and she couldn't stop herself from grinning when Jax turned back to his cheering section and flexed his arms in triumph. They yelled and cheered right back at him. She didn't even hear the reaction Eric got from where she was sitting. She watched as Jax slid out from underneath the ropes, wiped himself with a towel, and took a long swig from a water bottle. Even that stirred something in her stomach that had her biting her lip.

Suddenly, she felt a cold hand grip her elbow.

"Take this over to Teller," her uncle commanded into her ear as he pushed a beer bottle into her hands. "Give him our congratulations on being able to keep up with Miles tonight…tell him he won't be so lucky next Saturday."

He nudged her forward before she even had a chance to respond and with a deep breath, she started the short trek from the Nord end of the ring to the Samcro end, clutching the beer in her hand for dear life. She knew she was venturing into some serious unpredictable territory here—what was her uncle doing? Was he dangling her out in front of them like a piece of meat? Or was he just sending her to do his dirty work for him? She had a sinking feeling it was a little bit of both.

Either way, she was grateful this wouldn't be the first time she'd be interacting with Jax. She would be hyperventilating into the beer bottle on her way over to him if she hadn't. It was difficult to ignore the stares she was getting as she weaved in and out through the Samcro cheering section. Women in tight jeans and tattered shirts with heavily layered makeup eyed her up like snakes coiling to strike. The men stared at her with equal parts surprise, confusion, and lust. Neither reaction was a pleasant one.

By the time she found Jax, he was perched on the third row of Samcro's bleachers—still shirtless—and chatting with Opie, his arm slung around a sleazy-looking blonde with bad highlights and slightly glazed over eyes. Jax's head turned casually in her direction, then back again to say something to Opie, and then his gaze snapped back to her with wide, disbelieving eyes. His eyes seemed to burn into her as she continued to walk towards them and by then, Opie too had realized she was quickly approaching them.

Jax seemed to straighten a little when she finally got there and she realized she needed more than a moment to gather her bearings. So she pressed a smile onto her lips and held out the beer to Jax.

"Courtesy of my uncle," she explained. "As a congratulations to you for 'keeping up with Miles', as he said."

An easy, cocky lop-sided grin slid onto Jax's lips and she had to concentrate on the task at hand to keep her emotions in check here. When he reached out to take the bottle from her, the light graze of his fingers over hers sent goosebumps down her arm.

"Thanks, darlin'," he tossed back lightly. The blonde underneath his arm narrowed her heavily-lined eyes at him before turning her glare directly onto her.

For a moment, she almost completely forgot there was something else she was supposed to do here.

"And…um…I'm also supposed to tell you that you won't be so lucky next Saturday…which I highly doubt." Her eyes widened when she realized what had came tumbling out of her mouth and she wanted to clamp her hand around it.

His blue eyes sparked back at her as he untangled himself from the blonde underneath his arm. "I take it you liked what you saw, huh?"

"Of course she did," the blonde at his side purred into his ear. "Who wouldn't?"

His eyes flicked back to the blonde for a moment. "Go find something to do, Wendy."

Wendy pouted at him for a moment before realizing he was serious. Her eyes widened a little before morphing into dangerous black slits. As she slid out from the bleachers, Wendy's eyes shot right through her with a murderous glare before she stepped away from the bleachers and into the crowd behind them. At some point, she realized, Opie had slipped away from them too and now they were as alone as they could be, given the throng of people surrounding them—Jax perched a little above her eye level with a smirk spreading across his face and she had to bit her lip one more time that night.

"You did pretty well in there, Jax," she started finally, crossing her arms over her chest in subconscious self-defense. "I didn't know you had it in you."

His head tilted a little to the side as he watched her carefully, his mouth twisting up in the same direction as his head. "Yeah, you did, Ava…and now you just get to watch it all over again next Saturday."

"Looking forward to it," she offered with a small smile.

"Good," he nodded in satisfaction and took a pull from the beer bottle. "When are you workin' at Lucky's again? I've been thinkin' I need to pay my new favorite bartender a visit."

A shot of heat rushed into her cheeks and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was back in high school again, talking to the guy she had a crush on by the bleachers after his football practice. But this was as far off from high school as she could possibly get and this situation, if she allowed it to go any further, would quickly become dangerous in more ways than one.

"I think your girlfriend is pissed at you," she quickly shifted the subject as she saw Wendy fuming out of the corner of her eye.

He just waved it off. "She's not my girlfriend, darlin'. Wait…you're not worried about a little competition, are you?"

She pursed her lips in agitation—in the little time they'd actually spent talking to each other, he already seemed to know just what buttons to push. At this point, she figured it was best to just answer his initial question and ignore his previous one. "I'm working Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. Wait…you're not planning on stalking me, are you?"

"Somethin' like that, yeah," he winked.

She just rolled her eyes and shook her head, which did nothing but earn her yet another cocky—albeit sexy—curve of his lips.

"Well," Jax continued, leaning forward a little more on his elbows. "I'm looking forward to seein' you at the bar—probably not on Friday, though."

"Oh darn. And here I was so excited to know you'd be annoying me during all three of my shifts this week. Guess I'll just have to settle for two."

He laughed again and shook his head. "Good to know you'll be keepin' me on my toes then too."

She grinned back at him and cast a careful glance over her shoulder. Her uncle currently had his back turned to her and seemed to be in deep conversation with a few of his wife-beater clad men. Maybe this was the opening she'd been waiting for all night. Now all she had to do was figure out how the hell to get out of this place without anyone asking unnecessary questions. When she turned back to Jax, he was appraising her behavior carefully.

"Gotta get back, Ava?" He asked quietly.

"Uh…I think this is actually my cue to leave…he's not looking so I better get out of here while I have the chance."

He frowned and looked over her head to get a better view of the Nords' side of the ring. When his eyes darted back to her, they were filled genuine concern.

"Everything alright on that end of the ring?"

"It's fine…I'm fine," she said a little too quickly as she looked over her shoulder again. "I just…don't feel like being anyone's consolation prize tonight, if you know what I mean."

He nodded slowly. "Well, if you're lookin' to make a clean getaway…if you sneak out behind our bleachers and walk down by all our bikes, you can blend in a little more by that tree line. He'll never see you."

"Thanks, Jax," she replied shakily. "I appreciate it…"

He nodded again with a small smile. "Don't worry about it. You better get a move on before he starts to wonder why you're not back yet."

"Okay," she bit her lip as she started moving towards the back end of the bleachers. "Thanks again…see you later."

He waved softly as she kept moving and from the corner of her eye, she saw him lighting up a cigarette. Then his head was turned again as he watched her sneak out from behind the bleachers and walk briskly towards the long line of motorcycles. She was trying her hardest not to run—even though she wanted to—that would most likely attract some unnecessary attention on either side. He hadn't been exaggerating—the bikes were all parked along a shadowy tree that made it easier to stay out of view.

As she got closer to the rows of parked cars, she had a moment of sheer panic. If her uncle turned his head at the right moment and saw her attempting a sneaky exit… there were too many ways all this could go south. Screaming at her in front of all those people, grabbing her by the back of the neck and forcing her back to the Nords, pushing her at Eric for the rest of the night—all those possibilities scared the shit out of her. She was practically frozen in place and she just as she was contemplating completely rolling over and running back to her uncle with her tail between her legs, her gaze subconsciously flitted to Samcro's bleachers on the furthest side of the ring where Jax was still seated.

He was focused intently on her, almost as if he had been along, and even though they barely knew each other, she knew why. Then his head nudged ever so slightly in the direction of the cars, almost willing her to keep moving. And as she propelled this renewed confidence towards the rows and rows of cars parked off into the distance, she could still feel his eyes settled onto her back.

It wasn't until she was safely sitting in her car and driving down the gravel road that she was finally able to breathe again.

* * *

**A/N-Sorry about the wait! The next chapter will be up shortly. Let me know what you think...your feedback has been great to read! There was a questions about Tara and I have no plans on bringing her into it. I'm not crazy about her to begin with and honestly, she doesn't fit in the plot anyways. **

**Thanks again to my amazing beta, dreamer-girl-reana! And thanks to everyone who reviewed/alerted/favorited!**


	3. Harmless Flirtation

HOUSE OF CARDS

Chapter Three

When Jax strode into Lucky's the following Tuesday night, he was surprised by the sudden wave of anxiousness that flushed through him. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him…the only thing that could really make him nervous was his mother and even then, it had to be something pretty serious for her to extract that sort of reaction from him. But the second his feet crossed the threshold and the smoky, stale air enveloped him, he felt a slight flurrying in his stomach. What the hell was that about?

The answer to that question materialized right before his eyes as he took in the sight of Ava behind the bar. She was laughing at something a patron was saying to her and as her head tilted backwards, his heart stuttered in his chest. He could count of on one hand the number of times he'd had a conversation with her but yet she still had this effect on him. When her dancing eyes turned in his direction, he was relieved to see something in them other than what he'd seen last Saturday night.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she retreated into the darkness that night…and he couldn't really pinpoint why either. Maybe he had just wanted to make sure she wasn't seen. Maybe he just wanted to make sure she made it back to her car in one piece. But what would he have done if the wrong person caught her? He knew he would've stayed exactly where he was, watching, but that was it. He didn't know this girl and while he wasn't about to negate on the prospect of sleeping with her, he couldn't get knee-deep in anything beyond that.

But still…right before she'd disappeared into the darkness shrouded by the tree line, she'd turned back and her expression was something to one a deer has right before it's about to be hit by a car. Her eyes were almost sunken into her face but they were so wide…so scared. It was almost as if she was expecting to be caught and the punishment that would go along with it. That haunted, agonized look in her eyes had just about gutted him right where he sat. If he'd been able to, he probably would've jumped off the bleachers right then, jogged over to her, and taken her home himself. Sleeping with her had been the furthest thing on his mind in that moment—and if he was being completely honest with himself, he knew that was the thing that set him off-balance the most.

When she moved around the side of the bar and stepped more into the open, his original intention quickly snapped back into place, right where it should be. She wasn't wearing a skirt this time around but that didn't really matter. He figured she'd look good in just about anything. Tonight, she was just wearing jeans and lacy black tank-top which was more than good enough for him.

As Jax, Opie, Chibs, and the prospect slid into the same booth they'd occupied almost a week ago, Jax was having a difficult time keeping his eyes away from the front of the bar. He wanted to go up there—make sure his presence was known—but he needed a legitimate reason to do that first. He didn't really need Ope or Chibs figuring out why he suggested this bar of all places for grabbing a few beers after their shifts at TM. It was one thing to go to Lucky's on her first night with the intention of getting under Darby's skin; it was a whole other ballgame to keep showing up, especially when he knew she'd be working tonight.

Chibs had suggested they just go to the clubhouse but Jax had managed to convince them that a change of scenery would be good for them after an eight hour shift at TM. Sometimes, he just needed to get off that lot for awhile. Opie was well aware of this and he'd played on that to his advantage tonight.

Speaking of which…that thought gave him the opening he needed to get the ball rolling here.

"So," he started noncommittally. "Since I roped you guys into this tonight, I'll grab the first round."

Opie just shrugged but Chibs and Juice grinned widely in appreciation so he took that as all the confirmation he needed to saunter up to the bar. Choosing not to spare a moment, he started weaving in and out around the people playing pool in front of their booth and the assorted characters flocking around the tables spread out around the bar until he was standing directly in front her.

She was bent down underneath the counter, filling a cup with some ice and he waited, a smile creeping up across his lips.

"Well," he leaned forward on his elbows as he spoke. "I think this looks a little familiar, don't you?"

Ava's head shot up and after the surprise faded away, amusement crept up in its place.

"Well, hello," she retorted and he found himself grinning at the musicality in her voice. "I was wondering if you'd show your face in here tonight."

His eyebrows shot up into his forehead and he leaned forward a little more into the counter. "You missed me, huh?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that," her lips curved up as she spoke. "Stalker."

He winced and put his hand over his heart. "That hurts me, darlin'."

"Sorry," she shrugged as she poured some whiskey into the glass in her hand. "I just call it like I see it."

"I guess I'm just gonna have to work extra hard tonight to rectify that situation then."

"You can try," she replied flippantly but her eyes were still smiling.

"Let's start with earning you a tip," he winked. "I need four Buds and four shots of Jack."

She exhaled loudly to put on a little show of being annoyed by his order but he knew better. "Yes, sir."

As she got to work on the order, his eyes remained carefully trained on her smooth movements around the bar. It didn't take long for her to load the beers and shots onto a tray and then she was stepping out from around the bar and heading towards their booth. He followed closely on her heels, enjoying the view and found himself wondering when he'd get a glimpse of that elusive tattoo—a valuable piece of information he'd unintentionally gleaned from her younger cousin but had pocketed for future reference.

"Here you go, guys," Ava said as she began setting the bottles and shot glasses down on the table.

Jax stepped around her to slide into the booth, his hand just barely skimming the small of her back as he moved behind her and he tried not to react when she jumped a little at the brief contact. Then just like that, she pressed a smile onto her lips and turned on her heel to head back towards the bar.

He hadn't realized he was watching her step back around the counter until he felt a light tapping on his shoulder.

"Jesus, try not to be so obvious, Jackie-boy," Chibs muttered to him. "I think I'm gonna have to pop your eyes back in their sockets for ya."

"Not gonna lie," Juice chimed in from across the booth. "I was lookin' too—she's fuckin' hot."

Jax knew that was supposed to let him off the hook, to make him look not quite so guilty but all that ended up achieving was him wanting to grab Juice by his prospecting cut and snarl at him to keep his eyes off her. But he had to shake himself out of it...that impulse had come out of nowhere. And if he was going to do that, he figured it wasn't any better than pissing on her leg to mark his territory—that would not go over well.

"Doesn't mean she's worth the trouble," Opie retorted quietly from his seat, his eyes carefully trained on Jax as he spoke.

Jax just shrugged it off. "Exactly…but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy just lookin' though, right?"

"Guess not," Opie replied and took a pull from his beer.

"Aw, you're jus' sayin' that 'cause your ol' lady'd cut your balls off if she caught ya lookin'…" Chibs tossed back lightly.

That comment forced a ghost of a smile on Opie's face. "Donna can be a little scary sometimes…yeah."

"A little scary?" Jax laughed, grateful that the object of his current obsession wasn't the topic of discussion anymore. "Shit…I thought she was gonna rip me a new one when I tried to take Kenny out on my bike last week."

"That's because he's three years old, you asshole," Opie grimaced. "Some godfather you are."

"Yeah, well," he retorted with a grin. "I'll get him…one of these days when Donna isn't lookin'…all I wanna do is take him up and down the street; that's it. I don't see what the big deal is."

Opie looked at him like he'd just sprouted a second head. "I'm never lettin' you near my kids again."

"Can't keep the Godfather at bay, man," Jax shrugged. "You should've known this was gonna happen sooner or later."

"You know what I'm lookin' forward to?" Opie leaned over the table and pointed a ringed finger at Jax with a wide, triumphant grin. "Someday, the girl that has the sorry fate of being knocked up by you is gonna be the exact same way as Donna…and then when I try to take _your_ kid out on _my_ bike, we'll see what happens. Then you'll understand what I'm up against right now. I can't fuckin' wait!"

"Gonna have to wait awhile for that one, bro," Jax shrugged as he shook his head at the thought. "I don't plan on being that stupid anytime soon."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Chibs laughed. "Jesus Christ, who the 'ell decided to play fuckin' Def Leppard in here? I can't stand this sh-ite."

Jax nodded grimly and fought the urge to cover his ears. That god damn "Photograph" song just grated on his last nerve. "I mean, really, there are 80s songs you can play in a bar like this—like anything by Rush, for instance—and then there's this shit."

"Agreed, brother," Opie laughed. "I fuckin' hate this song."

"Can't they do something about this, though," Juice offered. "You know, like control the jukebox?"

"Smart fucker," Chibs chuckled. "Somebody get up to that bar and make them make it stop—I vote for Jackie-boy…he seems to get on with the lass anyways."

Jax didn't need to hear anymore. He was already half-way up to the bar before he heard some hollering for encouragement behind him. Ava was mid-conversation with one of the regulars but her eyes flitted to him for a brief moment when she realized he was there. She grinned and then held up a finger, signaling him to wait for just a second. When she was done, she turned back to him, giving him her full attention.

"What can I do for you, Jax?" She asked with a small smile. "Back for refills already?"

"Nah," he shook his head and leaned into the counter to get a bit closer to her, raising a finger up in the air and towards the jukebox. "You gotta make this stop, darlin'."

Her forehead crinkled in confusion. "Make what stop?"

"Def Leppard. It must be stopped."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Oh…I don't know. And risk the wrath of the guy who played it? Some of these guys look pretty tough, Jax."

"You know I'll protect ya, Ava. Just say the word and I'll knock him down," he winked.

She just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Alright, alright. You convinced me…what do I get, though?"

His eyebrows rose suggestively and he leaned in a little closer. "You can have anything you want, darlin'."

Ava let out an exasperated huff and perched a hand on her hip as she sent him a withering look. "Wow…how about a drink?"

"That I can do." He slid a $5 dollar bill over to her with a wide grin. She promptly took the bill then was rummaging around in a drawer before she curved around the counter and towards the jukebox with a remote in hand.

"I haven't used this before so just bear with me," she was saying as he stood next to her by the jukebox attached to the wall. He waited while she pushed a few buttons on the remote until that god-awful noise finally ceased. It was about fucking time, too. Now she was looking back at him expectantly, her hand gesturing towards the jukebox after she quickly slid his money into the slot.

"Nah," he shook his head. "Go ahead—show me what you got."

"Okay," she shrugged. He knew she couldn't have this dead air for too long so she made quick work pressing a couple buttons and his eyes widened when he realized what she had just selected.

"No fuckin' way," he exhaled as the opening notes of "Limelight" by Rush echoed from around the bar.

Her brow furrowed into her forehead and she bit her lip as she appraised his reaction. "What? Bad choice?"

"No…more like great choice," he laughed as he shook his head. They both turned at the loud whooping coming from the Samcro booth and he grinned when he heard Ava chuckling at his side—Juice was currently rocking out on air drums while Chibs played air guitar…Opie just looked a little annoyed by the display.

"You'll never believe this…" he leaned down a little closer to her. "I was just talkin' to the guys about Rush."

"Really?" Her head tilted to the side as she laughed with him. "Always a staple in any bar…"

"This song reminds me of workin' in the shop with my dad," he said wistfully. It had been awhile since he'd thought of his father but when he did, it was always the little moments that stood out to him as being the most significant; jamming out to Rush as his dad taught him how to work on an engine was no exception.

She smiled sadly and he knew that, somewhere along the way, she'd figured out that his dad was no longer with them.

"Well," she was saying now. "You'll be happy to know that Rush was my first concert."

"What?" The surprises just kept on coming. "Your dad take you?"

That sad smile was back now and he promptly mentally kicked himself. He knew better than to just assume shit like that. Maybe thinking about his dad was to blame for that lapse in judgment.

"No," she shrugged. "I went with my mom and her boyfriend— still can't believe they thought it was a good idea to take an eleven year old to a concert like that on a school night."

"Ava," he grinned. "It's _always _a good idea—besides, you wouldn't have the taste in music you do today if they hadn't…and for that, I thank them."

"You know, I never thought of it that way," she smiled, her head tilted towards him as she spoke. "That was the year before she died…shit, I haven't thought about that in ages…"

She wasn't really speaking to him at this point; in fact, she seemed to be in her own little world right now. But she didn't need to tell him what she was thinking about.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he offered anyways, feeling like he still needed to say something.

"I guess we have that in common, huh?" She smiled sadly back at him. "When did your dad…if you don't mind me asking…"

He just shrugged. He didn't normally make it a habit of talking about his dad; but here he was and it wasn't as painful with her as the listener, even if they were standing next to a jukebox in a noisy bar.

"I was fifteen," he replied quietly. "Motorcycle accident."

"I was twelve when my mom…car accident," she smiled sadly. "I've never met my dad."

For a moment, he had an urge to put his arm around her. The way she was looking up him with her shining, sad blue eyes…it was difficult to keep his arms at his sides. But he had a feeling that wouldn't be received well and he didn't want to be her friend—he just wanted to sleep with her. And he needed to remember that.

She turned her head to get a glimpse of the bar and he realized that she had a few customers waiting for her.

"I better get back," she sighed.

"Alright," he nodded. "I still owe you that drink—we'll probably need some more drinks in a little while. I'll catch ya then, alright?"

She just chuckled as she headed back to the bar. He knew he shouldn't linger for too long but he just wanted to watch her for a little bit longer. It was difficult to look away when she was so close but he was somehow able to tear his eyes away long enough to propel him back towards the Samcro booth. He needed the space to get a handle on himself anyways and the closer he was to her, the harder it was to do that. It didn't help that the last conversation they'd just had felt extremely intimate given the circumstances…but that wasn't exactly the kind of intimacy he was going for here.

"I gotta admit I'm impressed," Opie said when Jax slid back into the booth. "The girl's got good taste."

"I'm still in shock myself," Jax laughed before taking a long pull from his beer.

"I'm still havin' a hard time reconcilin' the fact that she's related to Darby," Chibs added with a shake of his head.

Jax couldn't have agreed more.

* * *

Ava was having a hard time concentrating on what she was supposed to be doing. It was helpful that the bar wasn't really all that crowded tonight but the second Jax had walked through the door, he'd taken all her focus with him. She was trying to keep her attention on her other customers, on rotating the glasses that needed to be washed, on keeping the overall appearance of the bar in decent shape considering she only had a few more hours left until closing. But all in all, her efforts were mostly in vain.

And she'd be lying to herself if she said she still wasn't a little shaken by their conversation by the jukebox. How it had taken that serious turn was beyond her…but there was just something about the expression in Jax's eyes when he spoke about his dad. She never spoke about her mother, not even really to her Aunt Anna so what the hell had possessed her to start talking about her mom now…to Jax of all people? She didn't know him—shit, they're previous conversations were nothing more than just harmless flirtation. So why had she so suddenly divulged such private information about herself, even if it was as minimal as how her mom had died?

But as she glanced up from wiping down the counter, her eyes collided directly with Jax's intense blue gaze and she felt herself involuntary shiver all the way down to her toes. How could he do that to her with just one look? One glance and she completely lost her shit. To be fair, seeing him in the ring had solidified a newfound respect for him—not that she hadn't before—but since then, she'd looked at him a little differently. She couldn't really pinpoint what exactly was different now; maybe it was the experienced and skilled way he'd hopped around the ring or maybe it was the strength he'd exhibited with each landed punch right in Eric's jaw. All she knew was that the sight of his flexing, sweaty muscles and bare chest had been very hard to shake.

But maybe, if she was being honest with herself, something had shifted between them when she'd realized he was watching her make her getaway after the fight. She had been so close to turning back and accepting whatever fate her uncle had devised for her that night but then Jax's determined, encouraging gaze had pushed her forward until she'd reached her car. Granted, she'd lost some of her freedom that night for her 'little stunt', as her uncle had said and she now had to be driven to all of the Nords' events. She couldn't be trusted on her own, her uncle had said, and he needed to make sure she stayed until he no longer had any use for her. It was a small price to pay for dodging Eric for another night. In fact, it gave her some renewed confidence that if she could sneak away one time, she could most certainly do it again.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Jax bounded up to the counter with four empty beer bottles in hand.

"Hey," he exhaled breathlessly, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Time for some refills. Ready for that drink now?"

She chuckled, biting her bottom lip. "Sure…is a shot alright? I've only got an hour until closing time and I have a lot of shit to take care of."

"No problem, darlin'," he shrugged. "Pour yourself whatever you want and make sure you pour one for me too."

She took a second to come up with something and then got to work mixing and shaking the shot into a cup of ice. While she was very aware that he was observing her with curiosity and a very amused expression on his face, she shifted what was left of her pride and her focus onto the task at hand.

When she pushed the filled shot glass towards him, she answered his silent questioning arched eyebrow with a simple: "Kamikaze. One of my favorites."

He nodded with that cocky, lop-sided smirk that was quickly becoming her undoing and picked up the glass so he could hold it out to her in a toast.

"To Rush." He grinned.

She grinned back and then clinked her glass to his before tilting the cold liquid down her throat. It was a sort of relief—she'd been a little on edge since he'd walked into the bar and that shot was just what she needed to chill her out. She was just about to thank him when the door opened and suddenly, it felt like all the air had been sucked right out of her lungs.

"Shit," she exhaled, her wide eyes focused on Eric and his small posse of skinheads behind him. When Eric's black, shark-like eyes zeroed in on her and who was currently standing in front of her, he was stalking towards her with a territorial, murderous glint in his eyes.

Jax immediately turned his head to see what she was staring at and after a beat, his blazing eyes were focused back on her.

"Listen, Ava," he ordered quietly. "No matter what happens, you stay behind the counter, alright?"

She nodded slowly, feeling like she'd just stepped outside her body. Eric was briskly advancing on the counter, his hands fisting tightly at his sides and his eyes narrowed into tiny black slits of ice. Jax, by this point, had turned back to face Eric and was leaning against the counter on his elbows with his back towards her. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized that the Samcro booth had been alerted of Eric's presence too. The other patrons at the bar immediately sensed the change in the air and it seemed like every noise, every movement skidded to a complete stop.

"You've got thirty seconds to turn your ass around and get the fuck out of here, Miles," Jax spat venomously.

Miles just shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "I just wanted to check on my girl…make sure no one's givin' her a hard time at her new job."

Ava blew out an exasperated breath and lifted her eyes angrily to the tiled ceiling. "I'm not your girl, Eric."

She knew this wasn't really the time or the place to be a bitch but she couldn't help it. She might have gotten away with it too if Jax had been able to stop the rumbling of laughter in his chest. Eric's gaze slid over to Jax and she could practically see the airs on his neck stand on end.

"Look, Eric," she attempted, knowing it was a shot in the dark. "This doesn't need to be a scene…I'm working, alright? We can talk about this later."

Eric's narrowed eyes grew even smaller and he ventured a step closer to the counter which made Jax tense in front of her. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say Teller's tryin' to get in your pants, Ava. You wouldn't really be that stupid, Teller, would you?"

Jax held his ground and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm just here for the drinks, man."

"Sure you are, Teller," Eric snarled back at him. "And I'm just here for the view. Now, back the fuck off. I need to talk to her and you're right in my fuckin' way."

"Just go home, Eric," Ava pleaded from behind the counter. "We'll talk some other time…"

"Some other time?" He demanded hotly and Jax stood up a little straighter. "You've been blowin' me off for weeks. No…we're doin' this now."

Despite all the eyes on them, Jax edged closer to Eric, who met him halfway until they were toe to toe.

"You need your head examined or something?" Jax spat. "You're on the wrong side of town here and if I remember correctly, the lady asked you to leave."

Eric barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Like I said before, Teller, back the fuck off."

With that Eric advanced on Jax, almost the same way he had when they'd been in the ring only three nights before, and shoved Jax roughly back into the counter. A split second later, Jax was lunging back at him, his outstretched hands pushing Eric into the one of his posse members' chest. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion—Opie and Chibs were at Jax's side in a matter of seconds, there was glass breaking, fists were flying in a mash of black leather cuts, white T-shirts, and a smattering of blood. There was yelling and screaming and she was pretty sure a table got turned over in the tidal wave that swept through the entire bar. She was completely frozen behind the bar, unable to move—even if she wanted to, what was she supposed to do? Jump in the middle of it and get a fist in the face?

She didn't know long she was ducked behind the bar but everything abruptly came to a screeching halt when a loud voice echoed above the noise: "Alright! Break it up…let's go, fellas."

The fighting seemed to be over and she inched her head up above the counter to see four police officers pulling Jax, Eric, and several others involved off of one another. They didn't waste any time in putting Jax, Eric, Opie, Chibs, and two other Nords in handcuffs and were already hauling them out to the waiting squad cars, two by two. She managed to catch a glimpse of Jax on his way out—he turned his head back to the bar as the cop led him towards the door.

His face was certainly worse for the wear—he had a nasty cut on his eyebrow that had bled down into his cheek and she wondered if that had anything to do with the glass she'd heard breaking before. But it was the expression in his eyes that was the most unsettling. She'd expected him to be smug, unapologetic even at his handiwork inside the bar. It wasn't entirely instigated by him—the first push had been thrown by Eric after all—but it might as well have been him. But none of that was there now. Instead, he was looking back at her with a solemn, almost worried expression. She couldn't make sense of it. He was the one being arrested so why did he seem so concerned when he looked back at her now?

Before she had time to ruminate on that any further, one of the police officers, who introduced himself as Deputy Hale, asked her for her statement. There wasn't really much to tell and she'd just told him exactly what had happened.

Now, she realized, all she needed to do now was clean up the mess left in their wake. And that meant she wouldn't be leaving this place for several more hours…she'd been so close too. With a sigh, she got out the broom and started sweeping.

* * *

"What the hell were you guys thinking?" Clay barked, his fingers tightly gripping the cigar in his hand. "Somebody'd better start fuckin' talkin' here…"

Jax winced as he rubbed the cut on his eyebrow. He really wasn't shocked that Hale had hauled all their asses to the precinct—he was always looking for a reason to flex his weak muscles and remind them that he was still in town. But in reality, there wasn't much he could hold any of them on—just a scuffle that had gotten a little out of hand, some broken glass, and an overturned table. After Hale had begrudgingly turned them loose, Clay had called an emergency meeting at the Redwood to sort all this shit out and while Jax understood the necessity, all he wanted to do was crash facedown in his dorm.

"I already told you, Clay," Jax offered, figuring he needed to be the one to speak for the others anyways. "Miles got in my face and shoved me. All I did was push him back and then it was all over with from there."

"Well," Clay bit down on his cigar. "All I have to say is you boys are lucky as shit that girl told Hale that Miles instigated the fight. Darby would be all over our asses now if she hadn't—if she wasn't his niece, I'd say we owe her one—the blame is publicly, at least, off of our shoulders for this one. But I think it goes without sayin' that we need to make ourselves scarce at Lucky's from here on out. The absolute last thing we need is Darby using any of this shit as ammunition against us."

It wasn't so much the fact that Clay had basically put an embargo on any appearances at the bar now that had him on edge. When he was finally sitting in his dorm, puffing away on a much-needed cigarette, he figured he had it pretty well nailed down.

What worried him was the fact that Ava had fingered the Nords as the culprits in this little incident. And while this was great news for Samcro, that wasn't so great for Ava. He knew Darby would not be happy that she had done nothing to spare Miles and his band of lowlifes a night in jail—even if it was because she'd just told the truth. Still, she had, for all intents and purposes, sided with Samcro and he had no idea what that meant for her well-being.

He should've just blown Miles off, went back to the booth, and let him and Ava take care of their business. There was no good reason why he'd needed to stay there, like some fuckin' guard dog, and then twisted the knife when Ava called him on his shit. He should've just walked away. Besides, if she'd been smart enough to get herself away from the fight on Saturday night, she probably would've been able to handle Miles just fine.

But no…he had to get involved, which was completely unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. And now, he worried that if something happened to Ava as a result of this stupid fucking bar fight, it would be largely his fault.

The following night, he still hadn't been able to shake that feeling. He'd done nothing but sit at the clubhouse's bar and feel like a complete piece of shit. When he'd finally retreated to the solace of his dorm room, he hadn't moved from this spot on his bed—just chain smoking and wondering who in the hell Ava could go to if she got in trouble. Really…who was there? Her aunt, probably the only ally she would've had, was dead. There was no one else.

Something about this just didn't feel right. His instincts had never failed him before and he had no reason to start doubting them now.

And he knew he couldn't just sit back and do nothing, especially when, if Darby or Miles decided to take this out on her, it would basically be because he couldn't mind his own business and leave well enough alone. So despite his better judgment, he'd grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled his common sense away.

Common sense should be telling him to throw the paper in the trash, go to bed, and forget about it. He had no idea what would happen if she actually used the information he was about to give her. But no matter how hard he tried to tell himself differently, he knew there really was no one else—and that didn't sit well with him. A quick glance at the clock told him that if he hurried, he could probably catch her right after Lucky's closed. Even that was a risk—for all he knew, Darby had one of his men there to 'make sure she got home okay' or some other half-assed excuse for nailing her down. It was a risk but she'd taken one too by telling Hale the truth and probably had no idea what she'd just set herself up for.

And it was that thought that had him shoving the piece of paper into his back pocket and pushing himself off the bed.

* * *

Ava hadn't really expected Jax to show up at the bar—not after what had happened the night before. In some ways, she was glad he hadn't. Ray had already given her the well-anticipated speech, in fact, his exact words were: "Look, Ava, you're the best bartender I've ever had here and I really don't want to have to fire you if something like that ever happens again."

She couldn't blame him. Honestly, she was surprised he hadn't fired her right on the spot. She'd inadvertently brought all that Nord-Samcro shit right up to his doorstep just by working there and she was willing to bet that if Ray had known about the heated confrontation that had taken place before the fight broke out, he probably would've fired her right then. For that reason alone, it was really for the best that zero members of Samcro had shown up at the bar. She didn't need any more of that shit right now and she knew Ray would be true to his word if anything else happened. She was making good, easy money at Lucky's and didn't really want to have to deal with finding another job if this one went to hell.

But then again, she still couldn't stop herself from jumping every time the door opened, hoping that a certain Samcro cut would be walking through. It was kind of pathetic…but her heart thudded in her chest just thinking about his cocky, lazy smile, not to mention the way he'd spoken to her the night before, his soft, questioning eyes…she would go crazy if she thought about it anymore.

When it was finally time to close down, she found herself wishing there was some way she could fast forward the next few days. Her uncle had shackled her into attending a 'get together', as he called it, hosted at his house for all his Nord brethren. There really was no way she was going to get herself out of this one—he'd claimed that she owed it to him now after selling them out to Hale, which to be fair, wasn't intentional. But he didn't care that all she'd done was tell the truth and that she didn't feel comfortable lying to a cop. None of that had mattered at all. She owed him now. He'd even taken it as far as telling her what to wear, what time his driver would be at her house to pick her up, and what time she would be driven home. It was all laid out of her in black and white.

In any consolation, she'd be able to crash soon and that was good enough for now. She was so tired—she felt completely dead on her feet. The last few days had completely sucked the life out of her and she just wanted to sleep, which, naturally, made her work that much faster on getting the bar closed down for the night.

She had just locked the door behind her and turning on her heel, was digging through her purse for the cigarette pack she'd stupidly allowed herself to buy, when she glanced up and abruptly let out a soft yelp in surprise.

A motorcycle was parked next to her car and Jax was leaning up against it as he took a long drag from the cigarette at his lips. He waved a little when he saw her in the darkness and then flicked the spent bud into the cement at his feet. Gathering her bearings and feeling a little better once she brought a cigarette to her lips, she pushed herself forward until she was standing several feet away from him.

"Didn't mean to scare ya, Ava," he smiled softly.

She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling a little exposed in the moonlight. "It's alright…Jax, what are you doing here? You probably shouldn't be here right now…"

"I know," he nodded, looking down at his feet for a moment. He ran a hand through his wind-tousled hair and blew out a deep breath, then he was digging through his back pocket. When he pulled out a folded piece of paper, her forehead crinkled as he quickly passed it over to her.

"What's this?" She asked slowly, the frown still etched in her forehead.

"It's…uh…my phone number," he exhaled shakily, then ran a hand through his hair again. His hands seemed to twitch at his sides and a moment later, he was lighting up another cigarette.

"Your phone number?" None of this was making any sense to her. "Why…?"

A brief look of panic flashed across his face and he immediately held out a hand in defense. "Look, I just want you to have it in case you ever need something…if you ever get in any trouble and you need to call someone."

It was that moment she chose to unfold the crinkled paper he'd given her and sure enough, there were the digits scratched into the paper. It wasn't like she'd expected anything else…she'd just needed to see it for herself in order to believe it.

"You sure this doesn't have anything to do with the last time we were outside this bar talking like this?" She offered lightly, even though she already knew the answer to that question. This had all just gotten a little…heavy.

He laughed and ran yet another agitated hand through his hair. "Well, I mean, you know you can always call me for that too, darlin'."

She exhaled deeply and bit her lip to curb the smile creeping across her lips. It was a little easier to have this conversation now that mood had changed.

"But seriously, Ava," he continued quietly. "If you ever need some help, you can call me."

"Look, Jax…I don't want to cause any trouble for you…I'm sure you're already in the shit enough with what happened last night and the last thing either of us need right now is more trouble."

He just sighed and took a long drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips. "I know…but the thing is, I don't trust Darby or Miles or any of those fuckin' shitheads as far as I can throw them and I know you don't either. You're in the middle of all this shit whether you like it or not and to be honest with you, I'm not sure you really understand just what your uncle might be capable of."

Her mind flashed to that dark, cold room she'd been pushed into when she was fourteen.

"I think I understand just fine, Jax." The ice in her voice wasn't intended to be directed at him but there wasn't much she could do about that.

"Alright," he seemed to bristle a little at the tenseness in her voice and he shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes trained carefully on his feet. "Look—I didn't come here to argue with you. And I know we don't really know each other… I just want to make sure you're gonna be alright."

"I'll be fine, Jax," she weakly attempted to reassure him. "I can take care of myself."

"Maybe," he nodded slowly, a mix of sadness and worry clouding his eyes. "But if you need help, I just want you to know that you can call me, alright?"

"Okay."

"I honestly hope you never have to," he tugged another hand through his hair as he spoke. "At least not because you're in trouble…"

She smiled softly and chuckled at his words, in spite of the fatalistic undertones.

"So," she forced a smile on her lips. "Let me make sure I got this straight—I'm supposed to call you if I need some help or if I want some sex, right?"

His lips twisted into that sexy lop-sided grin and it was suddenly very difficult to be standing so close yet so far away from him.

"That sounds about right, darlin'," he laughed. "I'm glad you got it figured out…I should get goin'. I'm sure you want to get home anyways…I won't be seein' you at the bar for awhile but I'm assuming you'll be at the fight again on Saturday, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Uncle Ernie's orders."

He smiled sadly as he swung his leg over his bike and strapped his helmet on. "That's what I figured. Be careful, alright?"

"You too, Jax," she waved. "And thanks…you didn't have to do this tonight."

He rested a hand on the right arm of his bike and she could see his chest heave heavily underneath his cut. "Don't worry about it, Ava. See ya on Saturday."

She waved again as he pulled away from the lot, still clutching the piece of paper in her hand. After shoving it roughly into her purse and digging for her keys, she drove back to her house in a daze. There was no easy way to explain what had just happened. From the sober expression on Jax's face to the way his hand had slightly trembled when he handed her the paper that had his phone number on it to his insistence that she was in more danger than she realized—all of it was deeply unsettling.

By the time she was sitting comfortably in her bed, she still hadn't been able to shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach. Jax was clearly worried about her and maybe she _had_ underestimated exactly what her uncle had planned for her. As she remembered what potentially awaited her at the 'get-together' the following evening, a sick feeling unfurled in her stomach as the possibilities washed over her mind. If she truly did find herself in a dire circumstance, who did she really have to turn to for help? She couldn't call Allie and bring her into it…that was the exact opposite of what she was trying to do here. So who else was there? Isabella would drop everything and come to her if she needed her but Isabella was also over an hour away—and by then, whatever was going to happen to her would've already happened.

Before she could stop herself, she was rummaging through her purse until her fingers found what they were looking for. She carefully unfolded the paper again and stared at the numbers printed on it. He wouldn't have given her this if he honestly didn't believe she might need it and it was with some risk that he'd done it. Whatever his intentions were and despite the fact that their families were potentially on the brink of all-out war, no one had forced him to do that tonight. And it hadn't been motivated by sex, at least not entirely. There had been genuine concern for her well-being radiating in his eyes and that scared her.

A moment later, her fingers were flying over the keys and his number was entered into her phone for safe keeping.

* * *

**A/N-Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and/or alerted/favorited this story! Your feedback is really encouraging to read and it definitely keeps me going. Look for the next chapter soon!**

**As always, please let me know what you thought of this chapter! **


	4. On Call

HOUSE OF CARDS

Chapter Four

The second Ava stepped foot inside her uncle's house and surveyed the loud music, smoky air, wide assortment of dirty wife beaters, shaved heads, and chilling swastika tattoos, she knew she was completely screwed. She was already feeling a little like a child in the middle of a custody battle, being ushered from one parent's house to the next. Except she was the one who'd lost custody of herself…she felt completely helpless as she was unceremoniously escorted inside the house by one of her uncle's men. She hadn't yet learned any of their names and she planned on keeping it that way. Her wardrobe definitely wasn't helping. Her uncle had basically told her, under no uncertain terms, that she would be gravely sorry if she did not show up to this little get-together "appropriately" dressed.

Apparently, "appropriate dress" meant looking like a hooker. Not wanting to risk the threat she'd read in her uncle's demands, she had decided to oblige him and not cut any corners. So she bit the bullet and pulled out the tightest knit tube dress she could find in her closet…it was the same one she'd worn for Halloween a few years before when she'd went as a French call-girl. She was even wearing the same four-inch red high heels she'd worn to complete the costume too, which, she figured was appropriate now given the circumstances.

She needed the costume tonight too. On some level, it was almost a blessing in disguise to have to be dressed this way. It was easier to block out where she was since she really wasn't going as herself tonight. Now all she needed was a mask and she'd feel much better. The main problem with this particular dress was that the knitting was so tight it constantly started to ball up at her hips, making an already short dress all the more slutty—she subconsciously tugged it down a little bit as she walked deeper into the house, feeling like her ass-cheeks were showing. Of course, this hadn't been an issue the last time she'd worn this dress; it was Halloween and she'd been too drunk to really care. Tonight, however, getting drunk would only magnify her problems. She needed to be completely on her game if she was going to find a way to get herself out of this in one piece.

She'd barely gotten into the middle of the living room when she came face to face with her uncle, who was appraising her wardrobe choices with cold, black eyes. The sick feeling in her stomach just barely edged out the lump in her throat and she found herself gripping her clutch a little bit tighter to relieve the building panic.

"Glad to see you showed up," her uncle sneered as he gripped her elbow. "I'm sure Miles will appreciate that dress—nice work. It's good to see you playing it smart here, Ava. I'd hate to think what would happen if you didn't."

Despite the heaving in her chest, she somehow managed to force a smile at him. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he scared the shit out of her.

"Miles is right around the corner," he was saying now. "Keep him happy tonight, alright?"

She nodded slowly, trying desperately to mask her sheer panic as her eyes darted around the room, searching for anyone or anything that could potentially stall her but there was nothing. She had no friends here. But as her eyes wandered the room, she was grateful that, if anything, she was here and not Allie. She knew better than to call her uncle's bluff—the risk was far too great.

When her uncle pushed her roughly towards the kitchen, her heart sank to her stomach. The only thing she could do to stall was walk as slowly as possible and for the first time, she really appreciated those four-inch heels. As she slinked into the kitchen, she purposefully stood on the opposite side in an effort to prolong Eric from realizing she was there.

Someone passed her a beer and she slowly slid her fingers around the cold bottle even though she had no intention of actually drinking it. All she needed to do was keep the show up for long enough to satisfy her uncle then he would forget she was even there. An opening to get the hell out of here would present itself; she just had to patient and do everything in her power not to panic.

Unfortunately, it only took Eric a few beats for her presence to register. He strode over to her with that over-confident, smug swagger that made her want to punch him. As his eyes travelled up and down the length of her body, it made her skin crawl and she subconsciously tugged her dress down a little more. A long, tattooed arm snaked its way around her shoulders before she had time to do anything to stop it. The only thing she could come up with in retaliation was a refusal to make eye contact with him. Maybe, she thought fleetingly, if she just kept ignoring him, he would go away.

"Ava…" he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Look at me."

At this point, stalling was only going to take her so far. A moment later, cold fingers were on her chin and forced her neck to the left until she met him straight-on in the eye.

"I don't know why you're makin' this so hard on me," Eric continued, his eyes momentarily distraught. "I've been nothin' but good to you. I've been tryin' to be patient…all I want to do is talk to you about it."

She couldn't speak she was so floored by words. Was he really that delusional? Did he really think they were in some sort of sick, unconsummated relationship? What the hell had she gotten herself into?

"I…um…" she was grasping at straws here and at the same time, had no idea what he wanted from her.

"Look, Ava, why don't we go out on the patio and talk? We can work this out…"

It was all she could do to keep herself from shaking her head and tearing away from him. There was nothing to talk about. There was no 'we'—but she couldn't say that to him. If her uncle was unpredictable, Eric Miles was just as much a ticking time bomb. She needed to tread lightly here and keep him from setting off—but there was no way she was going out on that patio with him alone.

"I'm fine in here, Eric," she replied quietly.

He frowned slightly and her entire body started to tense under his arm. "It's quieter out there; there's hardly any people…come on, we'll actually be able to talk."

"Yeah but…" she racked her mind for something, anything. "It's cold out there. I think I'd rather stay in here if that's alright with you but yeah…let's talk."

That seemed to appease him. She'd gotten her way but so had he. His eyes seemed to glaze over and a moment later, she felt a hand graze her ass then squeeze so hard it hurt.

"Hey!" She jerked out of his grasp and pushed him roughly in the chest.

His hands automatically shot up and he barked out a cackling, hounding laugh. She swallowed nervously at the sparking glint in his eye and tried to struggle out of his hold as he pulled her back towards him.

"I'm sorry," Eric murmured hotly into her ear. "I'm sorry…too fast, huh? I figured you'd be like that. It's okay, Ava…I'll settle tonight, don't worry."

She saw no need to press him for elaboration. His hands were on her neck now and she could feel his hot breath sticking against her ear. A few more shaky inhales and she knew she would be stumbling into panic mode. She needed to stay in survival mode here…panicking wasn't going to help her now. There had to be a way to get away from him without him questioning or forcing her to stay.

Before she could blink again, a pair of chapped, coarse lips was pressing into hers. There was nothing appealing or romantic in his kiss—she wanted to vomit right into his face. Of course, her mood and her feelings were getting zero attention here and his hard lips kept moving against her even though she hadn't given him the satisfaction of any sort of reaction.

When a hand travelled up the length of her thigh, across her stomach, and closed around her breast, she had had enough. Having no other way to reason with him, she brought a hand gently to cover the offending one, linked his fingers with hers, and smiled shyly up at him as she lifted his hand off her. She could play this game—the shy virginal girlfriend. Even if she couldn't keep it up for long, it would at least work for tonight.

"What?" he asked roughly.

"I need to use the bathroom," she grinned back at him. "I'll be right back, okay?"

She waited patiently for the reaction she needed to send her towards the sanctuary of the bathroom. Her chest was heaving as she walked as slowly as possible down the hallway and quickly closed the bathroom door behind her. Luckily, she'd managed to make it down the hallway without sliding even further into what she already feared was the onset of a debilitating panic attack. No…she couldn't let that happen. She just needed some time to think.

With the door safely locked, she backed away until her hands rested on the sink. A few deep breaths; that was all she needed to figure this out. She had maybe five, ten minutes tops before Eric or her uncle or both would come knocking on this door so she had to think fast. She started tapping on the counter as she stared at herself in the mirror. Come on, she thought to herself, think…there's gotta be something. Maybe she could make a beeline for the front door—the patio was out; there was no way Eric wouldn't see her if she tried.

As she took in her appearance in the mirror, the irony of this situation was not lost on her at all. She certainly looked the part tonight—she easily fit right in with the other girls mingling around the house and she knew she'd fit right in at Samcro's clubhouse too. No one would bat an eye. If she was in the clubhouse and Jax was the one holding her, kissing her, touching her, she wouldn't be hiding in a bathroom right now, even though she had a feeling Jax wouldn't have been quite as aggressive, at least not right out in the open.

But she was here. At a Nord party, with a high-ranking Nord member who was probably going to have sex with her tonight whether she wanted to or not if she didn't get out of this situation. Jax's worried eyes, his trembling hands, and his soft, concerned voice flashed through her mind and she wanted to laugh at how right he'd been. She did need someone she could turn to. She did need someone she could call if she got in trouble but what would happen if she called Jax right now? What could he really do to help her?

She could already see it…Jax riding up on his Harley and parking it right in her uncle's driveway, him bursting into the house and checking every room until he found her—then what? Would he carry her out? Take her back to the clubhouse? It was all so ridiculous she couldn't help but laugh. None of that was going to be happening tonight. The only way she was getting out of this house was if she got herself out.

A wave of panic set in as she realized just how dire this situation really was…if she went back out there, she wouldn't be able to get away so easily again. Eric wasn't going to continue to allow her bathroom breaks like that, at least not long enough so that she could formulate a new plan. Her chest was heaving and tears sprung in her eyes. She was so fucked…no…she couldn't cry. Once she was safely in her own bed in her pajamas, then she could cry about the bullet she'd dodged tonight but not before.

Her head turned for a second and then there was nothing in the room but the window to her left. The room had closed in on her so quickly she hadn't been able to see that what she was looking for was right in front of her. There was no time to waste here and she breathed a silent of prayer of thanks that she was able to get the window open.

The drop didn't seem too bad, maybe six or seven feet. She could do it—she was going to have to because she didn't see any other options. Grabbing her clutch off the counter, she carefully ducked under the frame and swung a leg out, then the other until she tumbled into the landscaping below. Her stupid heel caught in the pebbles, thwarting any attempt at an injury-free landing she could've had and her ankle twisted violently as her knees collided with the grass. Her hand immediately shot out to clutch the throbbing ankle but adrenaline pushed her to her feet and propelled her limping through the neighboring backyard, stopping just long enough to slide those stupid heels off.

Her ankle was killing her but she just had to keep moving. She had no car, thanks to her uncle, but if she just made herself move forward, she'd figure it out—maybe she could call a cab? The limping was only getting worse and each step sent more shooting pain up her leg than the one before it but she pushed herself further down the street behind her uncle's house. She knew that the further she got, the more chance she would have at really getting away tonight. The houses seemed to all blur together and now she was just blindly limping forward from one street to the next until sheer panic began to set in.

She had no idea where she was.

Clutching her heels to her chest, she narrowly avoided the glass on the sidewalk as she stumbled down the end of the street. The street names weren't familiar to her at all and to her horror, she realized that she'd been so focused on moving that she hadn't paid attention to the fact that she was moving in a neighborhood of Charming she didn't know. She didn't even know if she could get back to her uncle's house if she tried and if that was true, there was no way she'd be able to find her own house.

With a shaky breath, she stumbled backwards in a haze of adrenaline, terror, and panic—her chest was beginning to tighten and suddenly, she couldn't get any air into her lungs. Her breath was coming in and out too quickly and the pain in her chest and in her ankle seemed to intensify exponentially by the second.

She was dressed like a hooker in a bad neighborhood she didn't know with a sprained ankle. Fuck my life, she thought bitterly. Fuck it completely. She sank down into the grass and dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders beginning to tremble—she wasn't sure if it was because she was cold or if it was because she was scared. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Before she could think twice, her freezing fingers were digging inside her purse for her phone. It took her a few moments to find Jax's number and her index finger lingered over the send button as she contemplated the possible outcomes here. He could answer and tell her he was busy. Or he could answer and bring her home. Or he could ignore her call altogether. Shaking her head, she realized the outcome didn't matter anymore. This was the only card she had left to play.

So she hit the send button and waited. And waited. And waited. A generic message played at the end and she quickly ended the call before the beep sounded. That was so stupid. What was she expecting? Of course he wouldn't answer. It was a Friday night and he was busy—probably some place where he couldn't hear his phone even if he wanted to. She was completely screwed now. Alone on an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar part of town at one in the morning. Dressed like a hooker.

It was then that she finally surrendered and hung her head, her entire body racked with sobs.

* * *

"I can't wait to see you kick that guy's ass tomorrow, Jax," Wendy purred into his ear. She had one hand wrapped around his neck and the other rubbing him teasingly on the outside of his jeans. Good thing he knew she wasn't really as much of a cock-tease as she was playing at right now.

"I'm just lookin' forward to getting taken care of by you afterwards, darlin'," he murmured back to her.

She giggled and nuzzled his neck with a flick of her tongue—it was a little annoying and she'd been fucking doing that all night. But, to be fair, he hadn't really given her any signs pointing to his true feelings about her signature move. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter anyways. If he got sick of her and pushed her away, there was always another one waiting in the wings to take her place. There was no shortage of pussy in the clubhouse tonight and if Wendy didn't do it for him, some other croweater would.

"Yo, bro!" Tig called from the other side of the pool table. "You're up."

Jax grinned down at Wendy and untangled his arm from around her shoulders. She was clearly half in the bag and not entirely from alcohol either but that had never really bothered him. What she did on her free time and before she walked into the clubhouse was of little concern to him—just as long as she never brought that shit into the clubhouse or around him. She was looking up at him now with those big pouty lips and he grinned when he thought about the last time he'd been that close to her lips. Ah, Wendy…she never failed him. Always so ready and willing.

"Come on, Jax!" Opie shook his head. "Let's go…some of us don't have all day over here."

Jax held his hands up as he took a drag from his cigarette and pulled himself up from the booth. "Alright, alright…Jesus, Ope."

He grabbed the cue stick from Opie's outstretched hand and ignored the death glare he was currently receiving from his best friend. It wasn't like he was intentionally holding up the game. Besides, it wasn't his fault Opie had promised his wife he'd be home after one more game of pool with the guys. With a sideways grin at the glowering ogre to his left, he decided to take his time lining up the shot. Ope just made it too easy…his phone vibrated in his pocket but he was just having too much fun right now—whoever was trying to call him could wait a few more minutes.

"Any time now, Jax," Opie muttered with a shake of his head.

Jax just shrugged and sprung the cue stick out to connect with the striped three ball, bouncing it easily into the closest pocket. This time, though, he didn't waste any time lining up his second shot and quickly bounced the cue ball off the curb and towards the five ball, just narrowly missing the pocket. With a grimace, he handed the cue stick back to Tig, who was grinning back at him triumphantly.

He'd barely stepped back from the table and Wendy had already positioned herself underneath his arm again. His phone vibrated once in his back pocket as a friendly reminder and he abruptly dug it out, despite Wendy making it difficult for him to maneuver around her grip. Flipping it open, he frowned at the unfamiliar number. Who the hell would be calling him right now at one in the morning anyways? He almost ignored it completely and snapped it shut, getting it about halfway back into his pocket before he thought better of it. This was going to nag at him for the rest of the night if he didn't figure out who had called. One possibility shot through his mind and that was all the convincing he needed.

After immediately unwinding his arm from around Wendy's shoulders, he stepped back until he had a clear shot towards the clubhouse's front door. Wendy was staring up at him with her wide, dilated black pupils and he knew she was too far gone to really be all that confused. She was lucky if she was coherent enough to realize where she was. A quick glance back at the pool table told him his absence would go unnoticed for a few minutes and he took that as his opportunity to back pedal towards the front door.

As soon as the cool air hit his face, he redialed the missed call and took a long drag from the cigarette at his lips while he waited. After a few rings, the phone picked up and he felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sound of the voice on the other end.

"Jax?" Her voice was shaky and breathless, like she'd been either running or crying and he realized with a heavy heart that it was probably both.

"Ava?"

"I'm sorry for calling you…" she sniffled. "I didn't think you'd call back…"

Her voice was so muted, so desperate…he abruptly threw his cigarette to the ground and ran a hand over his mouth.

"Ava, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I…" he could tell she was struggling to get a hold of herself but she couldn't mask that she'd started to cry even harder. "I was running away from the house but I don't know where I am…I don't know if I can still walk..."

The more she spoke, the more it seemed like she was losing control and all he heard was her breath coming in and out sharply through the phone.

"What street are you on?"

"Um…Fifth and Sullivan."

"Just sit tight, okay, Ava? I'm comin' to get you—I'll be there in about ten minutes, okay?"

The words just tumbled out of him before he could stop them-it was sheer impulse and completely reactionary. He'd told her she could call him if she needed help and while he hadn't really expected her to actually take him up on his offer, there was no way he could go back inside the clubhouse now and pretend like this phone call had never happened. He lingered outside the clubhouse for a moment as he weighed telling someone he was leaving—and then he realized he was wasting time and that Ava was sitting outside in one of the shittiest neighborhoods in Charming, lost and alone, at one in the morning. If he didn't get his ass over there soon, it wouldn't be long before someone else found her. He could figure out an excuse for leaving later.

As he sped through town, it was difficult not to think about what was potentially waiting for him on the corner of Fifth and Sullivan. He tried to keep his mind focused on the positive here—she was able to make a phone call so that was a good sign, right? If he let himself think about what had sent her running out of Darby's house…he might decide to take a detour instead and that wasn't going to help Ava.

He could see her sitting in the grass in between the curb and the sidewalk, her arms crossed down on her knees in front of her and she was leaning her head down—he could see her shoulders heaving even as he approached. Her head lifted at the sound of his bike and he felt his heart lurch at the sight of the black streaks running down her cheeks. She wiped furiously at her face as he parked his bike right across from her. The second his feet were on the ground he was striding over to her, immediately alarmed when she struggled to get off the grass.

Grasping hold of both her hands, he gently pulled her to her feet and took a quick appraisal of her face, blowing out a sigh of relief. As far as he could tell, there weren't any cuts or bruises on her face which was a good sign. Without thinking, he brought a hand to her face and wiped a stray tear with his thumb. Her chest was still heaving but she looked a little less panicked than she had a few seconds ago.

"You okay?" he asked hoarsely.

She nodded and tried to take a step closer to the curb but her face twisted up in a grimace as she bent down to grab her ankle.

"What happened, Ava?"

"I jumped out the window." She murmured, still bending down with a wince.

A laugh rumbled up in his chest and he shook his head in disbelief. "You jumped out a window?"

Gone was the desperation and helplessness in her eyes—they were dancing now as her lips broke out into a grin.

"Yeah," she laughed. "I did—I fuckin' twisted my ankle in the landing though. I definitely didn't help myself by running as far as I could without knowing where the hell I was going."

"But other than a busted ankle, you're still in one piece though, right?"

She nodded with a deep exhale. "Yeah, I think so."

"Okay," he had both hands on her shoulders now to steady her. "Let's get you home—you know what street you live on or am I gonna be driving around aimlessly all night too?"

She laughed and, in spite of the situation, swatted him playfully in the shoulder—a sure sign that she wasn't too worse for the wear. As he eased her over to his bike, he got his first real eyeful of her outfit and, in any other circumstances, he would normally be extremely turned on by the tight black dress that was so short he could practically see her underwear but instead, he was just confused.

He gently swung her around so he could lift her onto his bike, his hands resting carefully on her hips as she settled into the seat. As he hopped on in front of her, he jumped a little when she wrapped her hands around his waist and leaned into his back. He could feel her chest still heaving against him and after she murmured her address into his ear, he sped off to get her the hell out of there.

* * *

Ava was just thankful she'd had the foresight to tell Jax to pull into the street directly behind her house. The entire ride she'd clung to his waist like a lifeline and as she nestled into the cool leather on his back, she completely forgot where she'd been just minutes before and what had almost happened. It was almost like it had never happened at all. The moment his thumb wiped the tears from her cheek, everything instantly calmed. The shaky breath, the heaving chest, the racking sobs…it was all over and she knew it was her body's way of telling her she was safe now. She didn't even care that the wind around her was freezing and just leaned into him more for warmth.

When Jax parked his bike on the street directly behind her house, part of her wished they could just go around the block a few more times. She'd never ridden on a motorcycle before but she knew enough about the MC culture to know that it usually meant something when a club member had a woman on the back of his bike—that position was typically reserved for old ladies and wives. As much as that knocked her off-balance, it didn't take away the thrill of the wind in her hair, the vibration beneath her, and the feel of his hard muscles in front of her. The experience itself was nothing short of intimate and she understood why club members didn't give random rides to just anyone—there was meaning behind it. Given the circumstances, she doubted if she'd ever really get the chance to do this again.

She waited as Jax swung his leg over the side and then held both hands out to help her ease off the bike. Sliding her hand into his calloused left one and clutching her heels with her other, she wobbled a little on her unsteady feet. She had to favor her injured ankle and a few beats later, a hand shot out to her waist to make sure she didn't completely lose her footing.

"Whoa," he murmured lowly. "Careful now, darlin'—I gotta get you in that house in one piece still."

His hands lingered on her waist for a moment as he watched her attempt a step towards her house. When she faltered, he swooped down, gathered her legs in his arms, and started moving onto the grass. She hadn't realized her arms had instinctively wrapped themselves around his neck until he turned his head to grin at her triumphantly—she didn't need him to carry her.

"Jax!" Her voice muffled into the shoulder of his cut as she struggled against him. "Put me down…I can walk, okay?"

"You sure about that, Ava? 'Cause your limping is paintin' a different story," he smirked down at her.

"I just need a little help…not _that _much help," she whispered loudly. "Besides, I think you're enjoying yourself a little too much and I've already had enough of that tonight if that's alright with you."

She hadn't meant it to come out as testy or ungrateful as it sounded—it wasn't him who'd caused this tonight and she definitely wasn't ungrateful. Remorse, sadness, and a little disappointment crossed his face in a matter of seconds and she immediately regretted both her words and her tone. Shit…all he was trying to do here was help her and this was how she repaid him?

"I'm sorry, Jax," she attempted but he had already set her gently back down on her feet.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured back to her. "Let's just get you inside and then you'll tell me what happened, right?"

She nodded slowly, a little unsure what to make of his cloudy eyes and jumped a little when his hand slid around her waist to steady her. With his arm around her and her leaning against his shoulder, they were able to slowly but surely amble through her neighbor's backyard and up to her back porch. He released her just enough so that she could pry the patio door open and they stepped through together.

"You leave your back door open a lot, Ava?" His concerned and confused voice echoed through the kitchen.

"I thought I might have to make a discreet entry tonight…so I left it open just in case." She replied quietly. The fact that she had planned for this—not necessarily Jax bringing her home—the clean, stealthy getaway and the assumption that her uncle might have a car waiting across her street was a hard dose of reality that she didn't really need right now.

"Maybe it's better if you keep the lights off for awhile then. Where's Allie?" He had ventured a little deeper into her kitchen as he spoke and she was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he was in her house.

She shrugged as she dropped her clutch on the table in front of her. "She's away from all this shit—she's at a friend's house tonight."

She could see him nodding even in the darkness and frowned when he opened her freezer door. He rifled through it for a few moments and then he ducked around the door as it shut behind him, an ice tray in his hand. He gestured towards the counter, signaling to her that he expected her to hop up there. That might be a little bit of a challenge but her pride wouldn't allow her to rely on him for that kind of support tonight. She had to do something on her own.

By the time she hobbled over to the counter, he had turned back to her with a bag full of ice wrapped in a kitchen towel…how he had managed to find all that in such a short time was beyond her. Summoning up the last remnants of adrenaline she had left, she gritted her teeth and struggled to hoist herself up. In a flash, both of his hands were on her waist and propelling her hips up onto the counter. She had to swallow at the feel of his hands on her…a little over an hour before, she'd been recoiling at Eric's touch but now, she couldn't get enough of Jax's. When his hands slid down her waist and skimmed her bare legs, she couldn't stop herself from shivering. He lifted up her left leg to prop it against his hip and gingerly held the ice against her swollen ankle.

"Can I ask you something, Ava?" His hoarse voice broke her out of her revelry.

She smiled softly at him, their eyes level and she felt her heart tighten in her chest. "Sure."

"What are you wearin'?"

Her head tilted back as she laughed but she still noticed that he was slowly inching closer to coming in between her legs. "A Halloween costume."

His eyebrows shot into his forehead and a low rumble sounded from his chest as he laughed with her. "What?"

"I wore this a couple years ago to a Halloween party," she shrugged. "I was a French call girl; I even had a little beret and a phone in my hand too just for good measure."

"So, basically, you're tellin' me you went to one of Darby's parties dressed in a hooker costume?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well," he leaned back a little just so he could get a better look at her. "You wear it well, darlin'."

"It seemed appropriate for the circumstances."

He shifted the ice around and she winced when he accidentally pressed the bag into her ankle a little too hard. He glanced back up at her apologetically and as she stared back at him, her breath caught in her throat—this hardened outlaw biker, who she had no doubt had killed before, was standing in her kitchen and icing her sprained ankle. That, combined with the way he was looking at her now, was enough to send her reeling.

"So what happened, Ava?" He asked quietly.

She took in a shaky breath but his encouraging eyes gave her the strength she needed and she wanted to tell him—she owed him that much after what he'd done for her tonight.

"Eric was…touching me…" his jaw tightened at her words but she kept going. "He was kissing me and then he grabbed me…I told him I had to go to the bathroom and I think I sat there for at least ten minutes just freaking out. I knew if I went back out there that he wasn't going to stop—my uncle told me I had to keep him happy tonight…then I saw the window."

He was silent for a few moments and she wasn't sure which was worse—the waiting or the somber, agonized look on his face.

"I'm glad you called me," he murmured hoarsely.

"I didn't know what else to do...thank you for coming to get me and, well, for everything."

It didn't accurately portray how she felt but that was the best she could do. The longer he stood in her kitchen, holding her injured foot against his hip with an ice bag, looking back at her with those shimmering blues eyes that seemed to cut right through her, the more she wanted to just melt into him.

He chose not to respond and rotated the ice around her ankle.

"I still have no idea how I ended up in that neighborhood of all places," she felt like she was just talking now to fill the space between them. "I just kept moving…"

She didn't know what else to say now and his silence was becoming increasingly deafening. His fingers brushed against her cooled ankle and started to absentmindedly slide up her calf, inducing a sharp intake of breath. She'd be lying to herself if she said she hadn't secretly thought about what it feel like for him to touch her—she hadn't anticipated his rough, calloused hands but the sensation made her reflexively close her eyes as she savored this moment. Part of her wished he didn't have to leave her tonight.

"Ava?" His hoarse voice echoed through the kitchen and she jumped at the sound. "Can I ask you a question?"

She nodded silently.

He seemed to be struggling for words and the crease in his forehead deepened as his swallowed slowly. "If you knew something was gonna go down tonight—holing out in the bathroom, leaving your back door open…why did you still go?"

She blew out a deep breath and lowered her eyes; for some reason, she just couldn't look him in the eye right then.

"He said I owed it to him after what I told Deputy Hale," the guilt that flashed across his face immediately sent her into damage control mode. "This isn't your fault, Jax. If the bar fight hadn't happened, he would've found some other excuse and I knew what I was signing myself up for when I came back to Charming. But hey, I've gotten away twice already; I can do it again, right?"

"Maybe."

He didn't need to say anymore for her to know what he was thinking: these quick escapes were only going to be possible for so long. What would she do when her luck ran out? It didn't pay for her to dwell on that now; she'd gotten away scot-free tonight, albeit a minor injury, but that was nothing compared to what could have happened.

A moment later, she felt his cool fingers on her face as he gingerly lowered her ankle down and now his other hand rested on her bare thigh. He had subtly edged closer in between her legs and her breath came in a rush when she realized what was happening. He bent down until his lips brushed against hers like he was exploring uncharted territory and when her lips parted, he descended with a hunger that sent her reeling. The hand on her thigh skimmed up to her hip, wrapping itself around her waist as he stepped deeper in between her legs. At this point, her dress had balled so far up her hips that all he would've had to do was just glance down to get an eyeful of everything but she was past the point of caring. Her hand wound around his neck and tangled in his hair when his tongue danced inside her mouth.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her against his chest and her legs wrapped around his waist to draw him in deeper. Then he abruptly pulled his head back—and a wave of loss and confusion struck her as she tried make sense of what he was doing but when he shrugged out of his cut and tossed it next to her, she met him halfway, their lips collided back together. A beat later, her hands skimmed underneath his T-shirt and then pulled it over his head. His bare chest was even more heart-stuttering up close and personal and she couldn't stop herself from trailing a hand lightly down the middle of it.

He closed his eyes as her fingers explored his hard muscles and then he was grinning down at her with a wolfish glint that made her pull him back down to her waiting mouth. As he lifted her off the counter and hoisted her into his arms, she wrapped her legs around him, their lips never breaking away from each other.

"Down the hall on the right," she whispered against his lips and he started shuffling them towards her bedroom.

They had almost made it all the way down the hall and his hands were gloriously gripped on her hips, shoving his fingers around her underwear—when the front door opened five feet in front of them. Allie stood in the doorway gaping at them, her eyes bulging out of her head as Jax hastily dropped Ava back down to her feet. Her long forgotten ankle sprain came back to rear its ugly head when she landed a little too roughly back on her heel and Jax reflexively snuck an arm around her waist to steady her, pulling her against his bare chest.

"Uh…um…" Allie stuttered, still standing in the open doorway. "I, uh, tried to call you but you didn't answer…hey, Jax."

Jax waved sheepishly. "Hey, Allie…I was, uh, just leavin'."

She arched an eyebrow back at them and a sly grin crept across her face. "Sure you were."

He tried to smile back at her but it ended up turning into a grimace more than anything. Ava stood frozen in the hallway as Jax backpedalled down the hallway and into the kitchen. She ran a hand over her face and begrudgingly cast a look at her cousin's shit-eating grin before groaning as she limped back into the kitchen.

Jax already had his T-shirt and cut back on by the time she hobbled over to him and he was blowing out a deep breath as he ran a hand through his tangled hair when he glanced back at her. A slow, lazy grin curved up on his lips as he leaned back against the counter she'd been sitting on minutes before.

"I'm sorry," she gestured back towards the hallway with a weak laugh.

He pushed himself off the counter and closed the distance between them with two quick strides. His fingers brushed against her cheek and then he was leaning down to press a hard kiss into her lips.

"Don't worry about it, darlin'," he murmured in her ear. "It's too bad we had to cut our evening short—I was enjoying every second of it."

She laughed in spite of the heat rushing up into her cheeks and bit her lip when his hand skimmed across her hip as he stepped back towards the patio door.

"Hey, you gonna be at the fight tomorrow?" His eyes were glinting back at her, even in the moonlight radiating from the patio.

"I'm assuming I'm going to be required to make an appearance," she replied quietly with a small smile.

"Good," his lips curved into that sexy lop-sided grin that was quickly becoming her downfall.

"Kick his ass, alright?"

"You got it, darlin'," his grin only seemed to grow wider. "I'll look for ya…hey, lock this door behind me, alright?"

She nodded and waved as he stepped into her moonlit backyard. "Bye, Jax—thanks again…for everything tonight."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, Ava," he called out softly to her from the grass. "Bye, darlin'."

She waved shyly again, flipping the lock as he'd requested and fought the urge to just stand there and watch him retreat into her neighbor's yard. When she turned back, she yelped out in surprise as she came face to face with a grinning Allie.

"So…," Allie started slowly. "You met up with Jax, huh? Is that why you kicked me out of your house tonight?"

Ava ran a hand over her face and winced. "Allie—"

"What were you guys planning on doing tonight, huh? Wait, I know—you were just about to give him a tour of your bedroom. I knew there was a reason why his shirt was off…" The shit-eating grin still hadn't wiped off her face and her arms were crossed triumphantly in front of her.

"You can't tell anyone he was here…you know that, right?" It was suddenly imperative that Allie understood the seriousness of this situation—she didn't want to think about what would happen if her uncle should somehow get wind of this.

"Yeah, I know," Allie shrugged. "I'm not stupid, you know. How did all that happen anyways? I thought you didn't even like him…not like that was very believable but…"

Ava sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment to gather herself. Too much had happened tonight for her to process all this in one sitting. "It's a long story. I needed a ride; he came to get me and brought me back here. One thing led to another and I guess you know the rest."

"Saw it is more like it," her cousin shot back smugly. "I'm so jealous of you right now it's not even funny."

If only Allie knew that night she'd had, she would probably feel differently about that statement. But she supposed, on some level, Allie had a point. She'd just had Jax Teller in her house, shirtless, and carrying her to her bedroom—that was nothing to complain about. There was little doubt in her mind what would've happened had Allie not made her ill-timed entrance into the house and she still needed time to wrap her head around that.

"But seriously, though," Ava stressed. "Please don't tell anyone—it could be really bad for all of us if your dad knew he was even here, let alone that—"

"You almost did the dirty with him?" Allie cut in lightly. "Look—I get it, okay? I know about all that stuff with Samcro and my dad…you sure you wanna be getting in the middle of all that crap? It doesn't really seem like a good idea…but Jax is so hot; I guess I can't really blame you."

"It's complicated, Allie and it was also really stupid."

That was probably the understatement of the year. Even before tonight, she hadn't yet wrapped her head around this dangerous game she was playing with Jax—what had started out as harmless flirtation had quickly morphed into something very different, starting with him giving her his phone number. At least she would have a little time to ruminate before she had to see him again at the fight.

She started limping back down the hallway with a sigh. "I'm exhausted—I'm gonna go to bed. There's pizza in the fridge if you want it."

"Okay," Allie called back to her. "Hey, wait—why are you limping? What happened?"

"Like I said," Ava replied over her shoulder, still heading to the solace of her bedroom. "Long story."

"Oh…alright. Good night."

Finally. All she wanted to do at this point was just crumble into her bed and pass out—and not think about anything that happened tonight. She could deal with this later…she just needed to be in a coma for a little while until she could sift through the mindfuck that was her Friday night.

"'Night, Allie."

"Hey—one more question—" Allie called back as she settled into the couch.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you dressed like a hooker?"

* * *

**A/N-Thanks to dreamer-girl-reana for being such a fantastic, encouraging beta! And thanks to everyone who reviewed/alerted/favorited the last chapter-your feedback really keeps me going.**

**Please let me know what you thought of this newest development-it was sooo much fun to write and I'm really excited to see what you guys thought!**


	5. Fight Night: Round Two

HOUSE OF CARDS

Chapter Five

The scene was exactly the same as it had been the previous Saturday night. Each side was over-run with jeering spectators and Ava would've been willing to bet that the crowd was thicker, rowdier, and drunker than the week before. For good reason too—the rematch between Jax and Eric was a highly anticipated event and even those who weren't connected to either side probably knew about it. Of course, it helped that Samcro and the Nords had a shit load of money riding on the outcome of this fight and she was pretty sure whoever won wouldn't hesitate to claim those bragging rights and rub it in the loser's face whenever possible.

She supposed the only real difference in this particular night—other than the hyped rematch—was her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so simultaneously nervous and on edge and excited. These were extenuating circumstances and it was only fair that she was appropriately feeling a little out of her body at the moment. Her uncle hadn't needed to tell her to be at the fight tonight but he'd summoned her anyways and the car was waiting outside her door whether she was ready or not.

Wanting to avoid any comments about her choice of outfit—good or bad—she had decided to play it safe tonight with a pair of tight dark skinny jeans and a slightly sheer flowy white top, skipping the heels in favor of flats—even though she knew she couldn't do much to mask her limp. She knew she needed to be mindful of what her uncle was expecting from her. Jeans and a T-shirt still didn't really cut it and she knew that—what she was wearing tonight was sexy, a little revealing, and not at all like something a hooker would wear. If she was being completely honest with herself, she knew her efforts tonight weren't for anyone's benefit but her own. She wanted Jax to see her from the other side of the ring and she wanted him to like what he saw.

As she ventured further into the throngs surrounding the ring, she tried desperately to shake herself out of those thoughts. Ever since he'd walked out of her house and into the darkness the night before, Jax had been all she could think about and it was driving her crazy. When she closed her eyes, she saw him smiling down at her. When she looked down, she imagined his hands skimming around her waist and hoisting her up into his arms. She could still feel his lips moving against hers and she had to blow out a shaky breath just to get her bearings back.

The closer she edged to the ring, the harder it was not to stand on her tiptoes to eagerly search for Jax. Luckily, her injury kept her from actually doing that-there were too many prying eyes on both sides and she just needed to keep her cool. The absolute last thing she could allow herself to do now was cheer Jax on. That would raise a lot of questions and she was already in the shit with her uncle for bailing the night before.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"You better be on your best behavior tonight, Ava," her uncle spat at her as he pulled her to the front of the bleachers. No hello—nothing…polite and charming as always.

"Hi, Uncle Ernest," she replied flatly. There was no need to pretend to be happy to see him. It didn't really matter anyways.

"Look," he jabbed a finger at her, his eyes blazing. "Your little disappearing act last night was very clever—that'd better never happen again, you understand?"

She swallowed and nodded, the cold chill of fear pricking down the back of her spine. She knew better than to challenge him, especially here, and she knew she was going to have to play by the rules tonight and make sure she left on his terms. Maybe she would get lucky and Jax would pummel Eric so far into the ground he wouldn't be able to see or stand straight for at least a week. A girl could hope.

Settling herself down into the front bleacher, she did her best not to make eye contact with Eric. Just the thought of him made her want to alternately vomit and punch him in the face although neither one would do her any favors. All she wanted to do was avoid him like the plague but she had a feeling that batting him down was going to take more effort than she bargained for. At some point, he was going to stop taking no for an answer and now that he'd already stepped over the boundary, he was just going to keep pushing until he eventually got what he wanted.

She had to close her eyes and take a deep breath and in spite of the crowds of people around her, she'd never felt so alone. Any semblance of control she might've had over this situation was gone the moment Eric kissed her and practically molested her right out in the open. She could struggle, she could keep fighting him off, she could keep making excuses but sooner or later, she would run out of windows to jump out of, both figuratively and literally. What options did she really have? If she refused to show up, she was risking the safety of her cousin and she knew full well that her uncle wasn't above offering up family to serve his agenda.

With another deep breath, her eyes drifted across the ring. It didn't take long for them to land on Jax, who was waiting patiently on his end as Opie taped up his knuckles. He looked calm despite the mounting excitement around him and he grinned at something Opie leaned down to say to him. An image of him pressed up against her on her kitchen counter flashed across her mind and her breath heaved in a little quicker.

As if on cue, Jax's eyes flicked up and then seared right through her, rooting her into the cold bleacher seat beneath her. The earlier paranoia was gone from her mind and she could've sat there staring back at him all night. His lips curved up into a sexy lop-sided grin as his eyes took her in and then he nodded to her from where he sat in acknowledgement. Suddenly, everything seemed to fade into the background—the noise, the people crowding around her, the grimness of her current predicament—it was just all gone.

Part of her wished they hadn't been interrupted the night before. They were headed in a promising direction and it was already better than what she'd allowed herself to fantasize. But it was dangerous and reckless-they'd been playing with fire last night by blindly throwing caution to the wind. It could've very easily been her uncle who'd walked through her door or at the very least, one of his men coming to look for her and she was still uncomfortable with the fact that Allie had caught them in that position. It wasn't like they were just kissing either—he was shirtless and she had her legs wrapped around his waist—they were clearly headed to her bedroom. Even in her embarrassment, she still couldn't help but regret that Allie had come home that night. She'd wanted to finish what they started in the kitchen and at that moment, consequences were the furthest thought from her mind.

A loud whistle thrust her out of her thoughts as Jax and Eric took their places inside the ring. The chubby, curly-haired man from Samcro recited the rules and stressed that since this was a rematch, the winnings were double or nothing for this particular fight, eliciting a thunderous cheer from the crowd. Jax was bouncing around the ring now as Eric advanced on him and she watched, enthralled, as they repeated very similar strategies from the fight before. Eric swung but this time, Jax jerked backwards and just narrowly missed the blow to the jaw, instead throwing his fist around to connect with Eric's left eye.

The crowd roared as this first real punch landed and she knew she was in for a show tonight. The same sinewy, hard muscles were on display and something stirred in her stomach when she caught a glimpse of the Reaper tattoo on Jax's back. She had a sudden urge to trail a hand down each line of that tattoo, sweat and all. She could almost see herself straddling him so she could really explore each dot of ink and she had to bit her lip to keep herself from cheering when Jax landed another blow right into Eric's cheek. He really was going to kick Eric's ass tonight and showed no signs of slowing down.

It was going to be difficult to keep herself on the Nord side once this was over. With each swing of his fist, she found herself falling deeper into the abyss. Sure, it was dangerous but she was starting to like that feeling. The prospect of doing something that she wasn't supposed to just made it all the more attractive—why couldn't they finish what they'd started? If Allie hadn't come home, they would have so what difference did it really make? If anything, she was just even more aware of what she'd be missing if they didn't.

There was no doubt in her mind he'd be all for it—especially since he'd told her as much the night they met and if last night was any indication, he had already been heading there anyways. He'd said they could do it without getting caught and it was probably true. If they were careful and discreet, they could keep it under everyone's noses and pretend like nothing had happened. That thought alone propelled her mind forward and she figured, by now, she was getting better and better at being careful and discreet—this would just be one more exercise in that art. They wouldn't be able to finish this at her house, not with Allie hanging around but there were probably other ways to go about it. She didn't have much experience in secret rendezvous but she could work it out.

Her mind wandered back to Jax's words that night outside Lucky's—it would be the ultimate fuck you to her uncle and Eric and now, after everything that had happened and was most likely bound to happen, she felt like she should exercise the little control she had left. Sweet revenge, he'd said and he had been so right. Not to mention the fact that she wanted to wrap her legs around him again so badly she was practically panting. Her predicament under the Nords' influence was never going to change but there were plenty of ways to alleviate that pain.

It was a natural progression stemming from their flirtation at Lucky's and wasn't this just an extension of what she'd wanted to do by taking that job in the first place? She decided to embrace this newfound rebellious streak—working on Samcro's side of town, refusing to dress 'appropriately', making clean getaways when she knew she was supposed to stay, all in the name of pissing off her uncle. And while the drive to commit the ultimate fuck you, as Jax had so eloquently put it, might not have been enough to put this into action, her desire to have everything she wasn't supposed to have pushed her over the edge. All she'd done the last few weeks was everything everyone else wanted her to and it was time to put her own wants and desires first for once.

And when Jax knocked Eric clear into next week, coming away the clear winner in this rematch, she didn't miss the fact that the second his arm was raised in the air in victory, his flashing blue eyes landed firmly, almost victoriously, directly on her.

* * *

If beating the shit out of Miles wasn't enough to make Jax's night, the sight of him being hauled off to a hospital definitely did it. He'd never felt so motivated in a fight before tonight, so ready to just pummel through anything and everything that moved and the reason for this motivation was staring right back at him. His knuckles were screaming at him and blood was dripping into his eyes but he didn't give a shit. This was better than any high he'd ever experienced before—natural and engineered combined. Of course, the fact that he'd just won the club $30,000 directly out of the Nord bank account didn't hurt matters either.

As he hopped up to Samcro's bleachers, Opie met him halfway with a towel and a water bottle.

"Thanks, bro," Jax panted, tugging at the binding around his hands. He winced when the tape pulled and wasn't at all surprised by the blots of blood—his fists might've as well punched through a wall tonight. It wasn't going to feel so great in the morning or even in a couple of hours but who really gave a shit? Time to bask in the glory of pounding Eric Miles into oblivion.

"What the hell got into you tonight, brother?" Opie asked with an incredulous expression.

He shrugged, trying not to wince at the sharp pain in his shoulder. "I guess I just really wanted to win."

Opie arched an eyebrow at him. "No shit—I can't remember the last time I saw you fight like that. You saw him get carried off, right? I think Darby's takin' him to the hospital."

Jax nodded smugly and he knew he had ever right to feel that way. "Yes, I did, bro. And let me tell you, it's a fuckin' sight for sore eyes.

"It was like you were possessed or something." Opie laughed, shaking his head.

Maybe I was, Jax thought as he leaned his elbows back into the bleachers. He wasn't about to pretend like he didn't know just what gotten into him but he had no intention of letting Ope in on that either.

"You want a beer or anything?" Opie was asking him now.

"Sure, bro," he answered with a quick shrug.

Grateful to have a little recovery time alone—and Wendy no where in sight-Jax dropped his head onto the bench behind him and blew out a deep breath. Part of him was glad it was over. He'd been looking forward to this moment all week but while he'd been confident in his own abilities, a tiny voice had nagged at him that Miles could be on the exact same adrenaline rush as him and if that were the case, the win wasn't as sewn up as he would've liked.

But his drive had come out the victor in the end and that was all he could ask for.

Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of white and blonde started moving across the Nord bleachers and he allowed himself to finally really take her in during this quiet moment. She looked absolutely beautiful and a far cry from what he'd encountered the night before. She'd still been gorgeous as ever through her tears but the Halloween costume just wasn't her, even if it had allowed him several eyefuls of the body he craved so much. The vision floating around thirty feet away from him seemed more like her and concentrating on anything _but _her had been trying at best. He just wanted more of her now. He'd had a taste and it was just an agonizing tease of what it could've been. They'd been so close too…just a few more steps, just a few more minutes and he would've been buried in everything he'd been fantasizing about for the last two weeks.

The knowledge that he'd tasted her, felt her smooth legs wrapped around his waist, felt her hands tangled up in his hair, had her soft lips pressed against him, her sweet tongue in his mouth…hell, he'd even had her on the back of his bike—it had all served as the best motivation he could've ever asked for tonight. The second he'd stepped into the ring with Miles, he knew he had him. There was just nothing better than that.

His only regret was that he hadn't been able to finish what he had started with Ava the night before. It was going to drive him completely crazy and he knew, deep down, that another opportunity like that might never present itself again. Last night was an extenuating circumstance—she'd been crying, stressed, and scared all in the span of about an hour and he couldn't have stopped himself even if he wanted to. Her shining blue eyes were so trusting, so confident that he would take care of her and he would've rather cut his own hand off before letting her down. So when he kissed her, it had started out as a need to comfort her. After the way she'd been manhandled by Miles, he wanted to wipe that from her memory and give her something that made her feel the way she was supposed to—and then he'd completely lost his shit. Not that he really regretted it though. It felt too good for him to regret and, given the way she was staring back at him now, he had a feeling she didn't regret it either.

He kept his eyes trained on her as she stepped over to one of Darby's lackeys. They spoke for a few moments and then they were walking back down towards the rows of cars in the darkness. For a split second, he almost leapt off the bleacher to go after her. He had no fucking idea who this guy was, where he was planning on taking her or what the hell was going to happen when they got there. Just as his sore knuckles fisted tightly over the edge of the bleacher, she looked over her shoulder—directly at him—and smiled back at him reassuringly, letting him know that she wasn't in any danger. He felt himself immediately relax but kept his hands still firmly gripped underneath him so he couldn't wave to her.

"Here you go, bro," Opie appeared back at his side and handed Jax a cold beer, yanking him clear out of his thoughts.

Jax immediately recovered from his initial surprise and took a long pull from the bottle. "Thanks, man."

Despite his best efforts to cover where his attention had been only moments before, Opie's gaze flitted to the other side of the ring and landed directly onto Ava's retreating back. When Opie's disapproving, suspicious eyes flew back to him, Jax tried to play it cool and act like he had no idea what the problem was. Too bad Opie knew him better than he knew himself.

"Really, Jax?" Opie asked with an arched eyebrow back at him. "Just can't seem to ignore her, can ya?"

Choosing to just ignore _him_ instead, Jax dug into his back pocket for his cigarettes and wasted no time in lighting one up. The hit of nicotine did wonders for his nerves even if Opie's judgmental presence wasn't helping. He puffed away in silence for a few moments, grateful for the semblance of quiet away from the celebration going on yards away, until Opie's gruff, albeit concerned, voice floated around him.

"Everything alright, Jax?"

He flicked some ash out in front of him and shrugged. "I'm fine, bro. Just tired—kinda sucks the life out of the party, huh?"

"Nah," Opie shook his head. "You were like a fuckin' madman in there tonight; I doubt anyone would blame you if you just went back to the clubhouse and passed out."

"It's not like Miles is around so gloating just doesn't sound like all that much fun anyways," Jax stated smugly. "But I'm thinking my dorm, a few bottles of beer, and some ice sounds like a pretty good idea right about now."

"Well," Opie gestured behind Jax. "If you're gonna go, I suggest you get movin' because Wendy is right behind you."

Jax grimaced and ran a hand over his face. He was in no mood to deal with her clingy bullshit tonight and was beginning to wish he'd never let her in his bed in the first place. The ratio of her bullshit to his willingness to put up with it for pussy was becoming staggering. He'd traded crazy for reliability in his laziness and knew reliability could easily be found elsewhere. His bed, a few beers, and some ice were looking really good right about now.

So he slapped Opie on the shoulder and hopped off the bleacher. He waved back to his chuckling best friend and started ambling towards his bike. It didn't take long for Wendy to call after him but he chose to just ignore her as he slipped his shirt and cut back on—now that he'd decided to go back to the clubhouse, he just wanted to get there. It would be nice if he could do that without getting interrupted for once.

"Yo, Jax!" Tig called out to him. "Where you goin', bro?"

"Clubhouse," he yelled back.

That seemed to appease Tig and he just waved back to him as Jax continued on his trek towards his bike. Clay saluted him as he passed and he was grateful no one was telling him he needed to stay. There really was no point anyways—most of the Nords had cleared out, probably hanging their heads in shame and given that Darby and Miles weren't even here anymore, he didn't see a reason why he needed to sit here any longer. All he wanted to do was take a shower and crash.

The clubhouse was like a ghost town and for once, he thought as he passed by the bar and headed down the hallway, it was actually kind of a relief. No hang-arounds, no croweaters, no prospects…everyone who would've been here was still at the ring celebrating. It was rare to see this place so empty and in that emptiness, he could clearly see just how run down it had gotten over the years. With a packed house, you couldn't quite see that some tiles had cracked on the floor or that the booths closest to the pool table were starting to peel away. Of course, the wear and tear was just from good, hard use and Jax didn't see anything wrong that but at some point, the old place was going to need a little love and a little renovation—something he might not have noticed on any other night.

By the time he was tossing his cut onto the bed, he was seriously contemplating skipping the shower. Sure, he smelled like shit but he could shower in the morning. Lighting up a cigarette, he blew out the first inhale and felt himself instantly calm. Hell, he could probably just put out the cig, roll into bed, and pass out right now.

His phone buzzing in his back pocket halted his current train of thought and he dug it out of his back pocket. When he saw who was calling, his heart just about dropped into his stomach. His eyes flew to the alarm clock on his night stand—it was 11:30—why the hell would she be calling now unless something was wrong? The little moment of relaxation he'd just had was completely wiped off the table. He immediately threw his cut back on as he flipped open his phone, preparing himself to hightail it out of the clubhouse if she needed him to.

"Ava?" He answered worriedly.

"Hey Jax," her voice sounded calm, a little nervous maybe but nothing like the night before. Those two simple words sent a huge sigh of relief through his lungs.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she was saying now.

"No…nothing," Jax replied quickly, maybe a little too quickly to his liking. "I'm just sitting in my dorm."

"Your dorm?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "My room at the clubhouse—that's where I live, darlin'."

"Ah, I see…I didn't know that, sorry. Well, since you're not doing anything too important, I just wanted to call and tell you congratulations on your big win tonight. I don't normally enjoy that kind of stuff but I can honestly say I enjoyed every second of your fight tonight."

He grinned smugly at her words and ran a hand over his stubble. It didn't really matter that her reason for calling was trivial; he was just enjoying the sound of her voice.

"So I take it you're okay then, huh?" He threw out just for good measure.

Her laugh rang out like a bell through the phone and he smiled at the sound. "I got home safe and sound, thank you very much."

"Well, shit—here I thought I might get to go rescue you again. Maybe next time, right?"

"Wow," she laughed. "So you're saying you were hoping I had jumped out another window? Nice."

"You know what I meant," he shot back lightly. He was liking this back and forth with her more and more…he couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun trading digs with someone, let alone a chick. Normally, he didn't bother much with the conversation aspect of his interactions with women. This, however, was a different story.

"So what are you doin' tonight, darlin'? Something with me, I hope," he joked.

"Well," she started slowly. "It's funny you should ask that…"

He immediately noticed the hitch in her voice and inhaled deeply from his now-dwindling cigarette to keep himself in check. There was no sense getting over-excited about something he couldn't control.

"There's this motel I've been meaning to check out," she continued shakily and he felt himself sinking down to his bed as she spoke. "But the problem is, it's a little out of town and it's late and I'm kinda worried it might not be safe to be there all by myself."

He rubbed his mouth as he considered what she was really telling him here and was suddenly grateful he was sitting down. It had taken him a moment to figure out what she was asking him and figured it was only fair—after all, he'd played this very same game with her the night they met. A split second later, as the weight of her words settled around him, he was on his feet and abruptly mashed his spent cigarette in the ashtray by his bed.

"Well, we can't have that, now can we? So where's this motel at?"

No sense in beating around the bush and he had zero interest in wasting any time here.

"It's right off the highway," the surprise was evident in her reply. "About five miles out of town or so—it's the El Rancho Motel…pretty classy, I know, but it's cheap and it's not in Charming."

"Sounds good to me, darlin'…I still gotta shower from the fight but I can be there in about a half hour if that works for you."

"Yeah," she replied quickly. "That's fine. So…"

"So I'll see you there?"

"I'll see you there, Jax."

"Can't wait, darlin'."

With that, he tossed his phone onto his bed and started peeling off his still sweaty clothes. If he was going to get there in a half hour like he promised, he needed to get his shit in gear. Besides, right about now, the only place he wanted to be was holed up in a room at El Rancho Motel with the girl who'd been on his mind for the past two weeks.

As he threw his Reaper T-shirt haphazardly onto the floor and hustled towards the bathroom, he found himself practically busting away at the seams with nervous energy. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt that emotion in relation to being with a woman—and he had no idea what had made her suddenly change her mind but wasn't stupid enough to ask any questions, at least not before her spent naked body was lying against him. They were about to finish what they had started the night before and he just wanted to get there, to get inside that room with her so he could just let go and stop thinking.

If he was being completely honest with himself, part of why he was hurrying so much was the underlying fear that she would change her mind before he got there. Not that he'd blame her—they were about to wade into uncharted waters here and even though he knew he should, he couldn't have cared less.

* * *

"Here's the key for your room, ma'am; all I need is your signature right here," the desk clerk pointed down at the print-out of her receipt and handed Ava a pen as he spoke.

She quickly scribbled her name on the paper and abruptly pushed it back to him. When the clerk glanced up at her in surprise, she smiled sheepishly, silently cursing her nerves. Without another word, she swept the key off the counter and retreated backwards towards the exit. There was still no sign of Jax and she wasn't entirely sure if this was a good or a bad thing. While she was grateful for a few brief moments to collect herself, she worried that if she sat here too long, she might lose her nerve altogether and throw the key back at the clerk.

Part of her still couldn't believe she'd even made that call in the first place. She had stared at her phone for a good five minutes before summoning up enough courage to dial Jax's number and even then, she'd almost hung up the second he answered. The fact that he'd agreed to her subtle proposition without any hesitation still had her off-balance. He'd known exactly what she was getting at almost instantly and then had just rolled with it…no questions, no affirmations, all he'd asked for was information about the motel, which, much to her dismay, was much seedier in person than it had seemed online.

What was she doing? This was probably the worst idea she'd ever had—nothing good could possibly come of this and she wasn't doing herself any favors by tasting the forbidden fruit. But at the same time, hadn't she convinced herself that she'd earned this the last few weeks? She deserved a little bit of happiness; she deserved something good…and to be touched and kissed by a man that she actually wanted, and shit, did she want him.

With a deep exhale, she knew it was time to stop thinking and over-analyzing this. She'd gotten this far, even if she had been a little sidetracked by trying to decide which pair of bra and panties she should wear—she'd forgotten how stressful that decision was—so all she had to do was go a little further and get herself inside the room. Once she was there and he was there, she was certain there would be no doubts in her mind about what was happening. Nerves were starting to get the better of her and the first step was as simple as stepping out the lobby door and back into the parking lot.

Not wanting to allow for any more opportunities to psych herself out, she abruptly gripped the room key in one hand and pushed the lobby door open with the other. The cool night air had an instant calming effect and a renewed sense of resolve propelled her further out into the parking lot as she headed towards room 106. When the roar of a motorcycle engine echoed through the empty lot, the sound rooted her to the pavement.

Maybe it was nervousness or agitation or something in between, but instead of staying frozen in place, she fumbled with her purse as she practically sprinted the remaining distance between her and the door to the room. Maybe she just felt awkward watching him drive up into the parking lot, knowing that he was coming there to sleep with her and after they were finished, they would both leave and return back to their own lives. That wasn't a feeling she was used to—sex without attachment, which was exactly what this had to be—and she didn't quite know how she felt about the fact that this was a situation Jax was probably more accustomed to than she'd like to know.

She turned back towards the parking lot just as he pulled up right next to her Corolla. He swung his leg over the side of his bike, simultaneously snapping off his helmet, and nodded to her with that sexy, lop-sided smirk that suddenly made her lose all feeling in her knees. Chewing on her bottom lip in nervous anxiousness, she pressed a tiny smile across her lips and abruptly turned on her heel to open the door. The weight of what was about to happen was a little too heavy and she hastily stepped into the room.

It wasn't much but it was clean—although it did have a slight musty stench and a few stains on the carpet—it wasn't exactly what she had pictured, but then again, she had no idea what to expect here. More than anything, she was grateful for the momentary distraction from the fact that Jax was coming in right behind her. His wind-chilled hand grazed her hip and her eyes closed instinctively at the feeling, barely registering that he lightly kicked the door shut behind them. This was it…no going back now, not that she really wanted to as his other hand slid around her and his warm lips pressed lightly into her neck.

When he gently turned her around to face him, there was no paralyzing fear, no inclination to hide in the bathroom; she was exactly where she wanted to be right now. What came after this fleeting night of surrender was suddenly of little consequence—they would figure that out later; for now, she was going to enjoy every moment for what it was worth.

As she shifted in his arms, her eyes drifted up to collide with his shimmering pool of blues and her breath hitched in her throat. A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as he pulled her even closer.

"Hey," he murmured into her ear.

"Hi," she tried to cover up her nervousness with a light laugh but figured he'd seen right through it.

His hands scaled up her arms until they were resting gently on both sides of her neck and leaned his head back to better gauge her current state of anxiety.

"You alright, Ava?"

She nodded slowly and stepped closer so she could press a light kiss into his lips. It was fitting that she was the one to really get this going; after all, she'd been the one to call him in the first place—it was clear he was going to let her set the pace and she was grateful for that. A split second later, his hands were on her hips again and she twisted her arms around his neck to pull him closer as they stepped deeper inside the room.

Her purse dropped to the floor as the gentle, easy kiss abruptly shifted into something hungrier, needier and her mouth parted to let him in. Then her hands were easing the cut off his shoulders and skimming underneath his white Reaper T-shirt. Following her lead, he quickly pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the carpet at their feet. Their mouths collided again and she hadn't realized how much she'd missed the feeling of his lips on hers—it was like something was erupting inside of her and she saw stars when his tongue slid through her parted lips.

As if her fingers had a will of their own, they yanked him closer to her by his belt and unclasped the buckle a second later. A quick flick of her wrist and his fly was down—he obliged her the rest of the way and hastily kicked himself free of his jeans. Before she even realized what was happening, her arms were up and her tank top was flying over her head. His eyes seemed to glaze over at the sight of her black lacy bra with enough lift to give her a little cleavage and he paused to trace his fingers lightly down the middle of her chest. It was amazing, she thought with a shiver, that only a day ago, she'd recoiled at the cold, slimy sensation of Eric's hand closing around her breast and now here she was, in a low-end motel room with stained carpets loving the feeling of his worst enemy doing the exact same thing. Jax had been completely right—there really was nothing better than this feeling.

"Come 'ere, darlin'," he whispered as he pulled her closer and reached down to undo her jeans. His mouth descended on hers again—his hands still prying her jeans away—and she felt herself melt into him; her hands locked around his neck with no intention of letting go anytime soon and a moment later, was barely aware of the fact that they were now standing by the bed in their underwear.

She pulled her lips away to playfully shove him in his hard, muscled chest until he fell onto the bed on his back with a low chuckle. With a sly grin, she crawled over him so she straddled him and a warm sensation shot through her stomach when her skin rubbed against the hardness underneath his boxers. She held herself up by her elbows, her bottom lip catching under her front teeth as she grinned triumphantly down at him.

"I've been wanting to do this for two weeks," she whispered conspiratorially to him and his head tilted backwards as a low rumbling erupted in his chest.

"Really?" he laughed. "You could've fooled me, darlin'. I think you know where I stand on this one…"

"Yeah, I do," she replied, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable even though she was the one on top.

He solved that problem by leaning forward to capture her lips again and wound his arms around her back to expertly unclasp her bra with one hand, playfully hurling the lacy material to the side of the bed.

"Wow," she laughed against his lips. "Didn't know you could do that…"

"Wait 'til you see what else I can do." He murmured sexily.

She chuckled again but he abruptly cut it short when his tongue slid back into her mouth. His hands were kneading gently into her breasts as his thumbs skimmed lightly over her nipples and she groaned softly into his mouth. Wanting to return the favor, her hand drifted to the aggressive bulge inside his boxers and her fingers slid underneath his waistband until she gripped him firmly in her hand. With smooth, consistent strokes, she had him groaning into her mouth within ten seconds.

A beat later, he whirled them around until her back hit the rough comforter and he settled easily in between her legs. His head dipped lower to leave a light trail of kisses down the side of her neck and with each gently placed kiss, her entire body shivered. His lips continued their explorations down to her breasts, where he spent amble time on each one—culminating in one long lap of his tongue in the space between her breasts, making her sigh shakily as her hands twisted in his hair.

Then there was nothing but air above her as he practically leapt off the bed to rummage around in his jeans. She barely had time to get a grip on herself and then he was hovering over her again, easing himself in between her thighs as he pushed himself free of his boxers.

"I'm sorry, Ava," he whispered down to her. "I can't wait anymore…you're drivin' me crazy here."

She nodded, unable to find the words to express what she was feeling right now—a mix of nervous anxiety, anticipation, and excitement. Through her hazy vision, she barely registered him ripping open a foil package and sliding the condom on over himself. He was settled in between her legs again and she reflexively hitched a thigh up against his hip to give him easier access—she was done with foreplay too. No more waiting. No more thinking.

As they came down, he pressed a soft kiss into her lips and grinned lazily against them; then he eased himself out of her and rolled over so they lied shoulder to shoulder on the bed. It didn't even matter to her that they weren't covered up; she pushed back a tendril of wet hair off her sweaty forehead and blew out a thoroughly spent exhale. Only when he slid off the bed and staggered over to the bathroom did she pull the covers back and slid in.

She nestled into the blankets, feeling completely at ease for the first time in…well, since she didn't know when but she figured it had something to do with that he had given her the most intense, whole body orgasm that she'd ever had. Yeah, that was probably it. It wasn't like she was inexperienced; she'd had her fair share of partners but none had touched her and moved inside her with the expertise that Jax had. He'd known exactly what angle to hit, exactly the pace and momentum needed for the maximum sensation and when her body had finally given in, it had felt like something opened up inside her and sent ripples of shockwaves all the way through her body.

It had never been like that before—that intense, that passionate and she wasn't sure if it was the physical connection they obviously had or the situation they were in. They'd just committed an act that, while more satisfying than she'd ever anticipated, also had the underlying thrill of the risk and danger they'd be in if they were ever found out. That was part of what had driven her to make the call tonight in the first place and throwing caution to the wind had felt really, really good.

Jax materialized from the bathroom and dug a pack of cigarettes and his lighter out of his jeans before pulling his boxers back on over his hips. He motioned with his head for her to give him some room and he slid into bed with her as she scooted over to the left side of the bed. He held the pack out to her and wrapped his lips around one after she slipped a cigarette out of the pack; a beat later, an open flame was held out to her and when she inhaled, he quickly lit his own before flicking the flame down. They puffed in silence for a few moments, still lying shoulder to shoulder as the smoke billowed around them.

"Can I ask you something, Ava?" his quiet voice broke through the silence.

"Sure."

"What made you change your mind?"

That felt like a loaded question and he seemed to know it, which was probably why he was still staring directly up at the ceiling. She toyed with just giving him a stock, simple answer—even though the true reason was far from simple because she didn't quite understand it herself. Yet, she had no reason to give him anything but the truth. She had nothing to hide now and while they'd been physically connected only moments before, the remnants of that union were still lingering around them.

"It's complicated, I guess," she started with a sigh. It was probably best to start at the beginning and it was easier to talk to him like this when she didn't have to meet him in the eye.

"I think I can keep up, Ava," he replied softly.

With a quick inhale for courage, she gathered up what little resolve she could find. "I suppose the simplest explanation would be that your…proposition…started to sound like a good idea after all. After what happened last night, the idea of giving them 'the ultimate fuck you', like you said, was too good to resist."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him nodding at her words and in the absence of his reply, decided to forge ahead. Why not tell him everything she was really feeling? There was no way they'd be able to do this again anyways…so what did it really matter?

"But I guess, if I'm being really honest with myself…I think I just wanted something good for once, Jax."

His head snapped to face her at this new admission and she couldn't stop herself from turning to meet him head-on. She pushed her cigarette into the ashtray next to her side of the bed and he quickly followed suit. When his attention was fully back on her, they were still lying side by side, but this time, they were turned so they faced each other and it was scary as hell.

"What do you mean, Ava?" His soft, worry-laden voice enveloped her and she had to close her eyes at the comforting sound. He was edging a little bit closer to her and rested a hand lightly on her hip to calm her.

"Last night….with Eric…"

Jax's eyes immediately darkened at the mention of his name and she could see his entire body tense.

"He didn't hurt me, Jax," she reassured him shakily. "He kissed me, he grabbed my ass, grabbed my boob—and I didn't want him to do any of that. It kinda made me sick to be honest with you. And then when you brought me home and…it just felt so good to want it, you know what I mean? I wanted what you were doing and I didn't want it to stop…and, not gonna lie, it was a real fuckin' turn on to see you beat the shit out of him like that…"

He grinned at her words and pulled her closer until she was pressed tightly against his bare chest. She nestled her forehead into his skin and inhaled the smell of leather, sweat, and grease.

"I guess I just wanted to be with somebody that wasn't out to just take..."

His eyes seemed to cloud over and he quickly dipped his head lower to catch her lips against his. He kissed her slow and deep and she found herself thinking, once again, that it was such a relief to be lying in his arms right now. At that moment, it felt like nothing could touch them—they were closed off from the outside world in this little motel room and she wanted to savor this feeling for as long as possible. The second they left it, they would have to go back to acting like they didn't know what this felt like.

"You know if that ever happens again…" he trailed off hoarsely as if he was searching for the right words. "You know you can tell me, right?"

She nodded into his chest and his arms tightened around her as she buried her cheek against him. Suddenly, she was very aware that very soon this would be over and she would be forced to pry herself out of his arms, put her clothes back on, and face what waited for her in Charming alone. Right now, she didn't have to take all this on by herself—he was here, offering her support, willing to protect her as much as he was able. In Charming, that was easier said than done.

"How much longer can you stay?" She glanced up at him and saw her current state mirrored back at her in his eyes.

He sighed and lolled to his left until his head was pressed back into his pillow. A hand ran over his face and he glanced at the alarm clock over her shoulder before resting his gaze back to her.

"Probably not too much longer," he admitted regretfully. "Some of the guys are probably gonna be heading back to the clubhouse and I told Ope I was goin' there."

"Right," she nodded. "Time to get back to the real world, huh?"

He pulled her back towards him again and kissed her forehead softly. "I'm not gonna lie, darlin', I really don't want to leave right now. Do you think we can do this again?"

She chuckled against his chest as she considered his question. He was just full of loaded questions tonight.

"Do you think we could really get away with it again?" She asked finally.

He just shrugged. "I don't see why not…this motel idea wasn't too bad, by the way. We're out of Charming, away from anyone we wouldn't want to see us comin' or goin'…"

She sighed and rolled onto her back, almost grateful that she'd pulled herself out of his arms. It had to happen sooner or later and the more she thought about it, the more doing this again seemed like a bad idea. Sure, they'd managed to get away with meeting here once—that they knew of at least—but if it became a habit, they were setting themselves up to fall face first into deep shit. That wasn't a risk she was prepared to take.

"I don't know, Jax," she exhaled with tired resignation. "I think it might be too dangerous to push our luck here…"

It was more dangerous for her than it was for him and she hoped she didn't need to explain that. It was already going to be difficult enough to leave this room tonight, let alone get in her car and drive back to Charming—she didn't want to have to dwell on that any longer than necessary.

"Yeah, you're right," he murmured hoarsely. "You're right…so this is it then?"

"I think it has to be."

He leaned forward to press a soft, gentle kiss into her lips and then slowly slid his tongue inside her mouth. She closed her eyes at the feeling, knowing this was going to be the last time she would feel this. She wasn't ready for it to end…if only there was a way they could stay here for the rest of the night without anyone noticing they were gone so they could hang on just a little bit longer. But considering the fact that Jax was Samcro's VP and she was the niece of his enemy's leader, there was no use in tempting fate—especially when she already knew what the outcome would be.

A few minutes later, she was pulling her tank top over her head and dreading stepping outside. She cast a weary glance over to Jax, now fully dressed and leaning against the TV stand as he observed her with somber, cloudy eyes. It was clear neither of them really wanted to leave. When she slid back into her flip-flops and grabbed hold of her long-forgotten purse on the floor, she felt a strong pair of calloused hands encircle her waist and pull her into his chest. She leaned into the leather and inhaled him one more time.

"Hey," he leaned his head back a little as he spoke. "I know we can't do this again but I fuckin' enjoyed every second of it, Ava."

"I did too," she whispered into his chest. It had somehow managed to exceed all her fantasies and expectations combined.

"You've still got my number…" He waited for her to nod in affirmation before continuing. "And you'll call me if you need something, right?"

"I will, Jax." Why did she feel like crying right now?

His thumb grazed her cheek and he leaned forward to kiss her one last time. It was slow and full of everything they were feeling—need, hunger, worry, relief, frustration, ambivalence—it was all there. And when they were ventured out into the cool night air, him stalking towards his bike and her heading towards the lobby to check them out of the room, all she could focus on was the extreme sense of loss that deepened the further they moved away from each other. The alarming tightening in her chest only sent her reeling that much deeper into this wave she was riding and she had no idea how she was ever going to come out the other side of this in one piece.

As he hitched his leg over the side of his bike and shot her a reassuring, sexy smirk, the thundering of her heart only intensified. When his bike disappeared into the darkness, the weight of what had just happened finally, mercilessly encircled her—there was no going back now. What was done was done and even though she would never regret these short few hours they'd spent together, she knew that life as she knew it had just been altered completely.

* * *

**A/N-Sorry for the long wait with this one. Real life just keeps getting in the way...please let me know what you think! Your feedback keeps me going!**


	6. The Abyss

HOUSE OF CARDS

Chapter Six

The sound of running water was a welcome relief to the pounding in Jax's head. He wasn't even that drunk and it was too early in the night to feel hungover. Lighting up a cigarette had only taken him so far and the next step was reaching over the side of the bed for his boxers. Maybe the blonde in the bathroom would take the hint and make herself scarce as soon as she was finished in there. A billow of smoke surrounded him as he leaned back against his pillows and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

It wasn't the blonde's fault—he still wasn't positive on her name—and at this point, he just wanted her out of his dorm. His endgame for the night hadn't exactly worked out the way he'd intended and he figured the best way to deal with his misery was to numb himself with a bottle of Jack. This chick had already overstayed her welcome but there wasn't much he could do to hurry her along without giving her the wrong impression. There was no way she was staying in his dorm any longer than another five minutes—he wasn't looking for a bedmate tonight. He just wanted to be fucking alone right now.

The bathroom door creaked open and the tall, leggy blonde with sky-blue eyes stepped out shyly but he couldn't even look at her. It was just another reminder of what he couldn't have, what he shouldn't want, and what he'd settled for tonight instead.

This girl was just a stand-in for the one he really wanted.

His eyes shot up when she started venturing closer to the bed and his next words had her skidding to an abrupt halt: "Your clothes are on the other side of the bed, darlin'. You should get goin'."

When her eyes widened, he felt a moment of panged remorse. It wasn't her fault that she'd been in the right place at the right time for him to exercise his demons and it definitely wasn't her fault that she matched the physical attributes he was subconsciously craving. Even though he'd gone through an ample share of croweaters in the past, he'd never treated any of them disrespectfully or set out to make them feel used. He figured now wasn't the time to start, especially in his current state of frustrated, self-induced misery...it certainly wouldn't make him feel any better.

Even as she hastily threw her clothes back on and straightened out her skirt, his eyes remained glued to the ceiling as he exhaled another cloud of smoke into the quiet air. She didn't even say anything when she closed his door behind her and he was instantly grateful she'd spared them both the awkwardness. The girl had been nothing if not compliant and that was all he'd been looking for tonight, even if it had failed to extinguish his anxiety.

Suddenly, his dorm felt stifling and fresh, cool air was the only thing his mind could register. By the time he was sitting on the roof, a bottle of Jack and cigarette pack in hand, he felt a little better. At the very least, he didn't feel quite as tightly wound and restless as he had in his bed. The light wind lifted the ends of his overly-long hair and the calming effect of that sensation made his distress momentarily disappear.

He leaned against the railing and blew out a long trail of smoke from his nostrils. This shit just wouldn't go away. No matter what he did the past week, all he could think of was her. Ava's shining blue eyes flashed across his closed eyes and he could practically smell her perfume wash around him. Her bare, smooth skin nestled against him, the intoxicating sensation of her soft hair dancing across his chest and his arms—not to mention the fact that the feeling of her tight, wet pussy wrapped around him had practically knocked him clear into next week.

In light of recent events, he had made it his mission to get Ava out of his system. He'd had her once and because she had clearly, firmly stated that he was only going to have her once, he had to accept that and move the fuck on. Wendy was the most familiar, tried and true option and he banged her for three days in a row until he faced the reality of his situation: not only did he no longer find Wendy attractive, he just wasn't satisfied with anything less after the few hours he'd spent with Ava in that motel room. He had a feeling it would be a long time before anything even came close to that.

So when that blonde had latched herself onto him tonight at the clubhouse, he'd seen it as divine intervention. The hair, the eyes, the build—it was all similar enough to maybe do the trick and rid him of this obsession once and for all. But when he'd been inside her, he found himself picturing Ava instead—just like he'd done with Wendy. Second best was never going to cut it.

This had never happened to him before. He knew better than to allow himself to slip down the rabbit hole and he'd always been able to maintain a healthy distance away from emotional intimacy of any kind. But in that motel room, all of the apathy he'd built up over the years just had eroded away with the second she'd opened up to him about her reasons for changing her mind. He still hadn't completely wrapped his head around all of that yet either and at this point, didn't see the point. He'd shied away from emotional connections with women since he'd lost his V-card at fourteen but as Ava had curled into his shoulder and bared her own emotional truth to him, slipping into that role wasn't quite as scary as he'd anticipated. Maybe it was just because it was with her.

She'd said she wanted something good after what she was facing in Darby's camp and he had a pretty decent idea what that all entailed. All in all, she'd gotten lucky the night he'd come to pick her up—Miles was capable of much worse than some ass and tit-grabbing. Just thinking about that fucking prick's hands all over Ava made his blood boil. He didn't want anyone else to touch her and if she wanted something good, god damn it, he wanted to be the one to give it to her. Fuck everything and everyone else.

Even if there was some risk involved, meeting at that motel had been a stroke of genius on her part. In the middle of the night, they had the ability to be a little more anonymous, even if his bike didn't particularly help matters. There were less people around and no one who would have any power or influence over them would have any reason to end up there in the middle of the night. If they were careful and timed their meetings in a similar way, he saw no reason why they couldn't keep seeing each other at the motel. It didn't matter to him that it couldn't go any further—he just wanted more of her.

All week, he'd been looking for her too and that had only served to send him deeper into the downward spiral. He hadn't let himself drive down her street on the off chance that Darby or any of his men happened to be at Ava's house right then. On that level, he agreed with her about any arrangement between them being risky. Unfortunately, though, it was far more risky for her than it was for him. While putting his brothers potentially at risk of war with the Nords was nothing to sniff at, he didn't have to worry about the physical and emotional manhandling that she had to be suffering at her uncle's psychopathic tendencies. The last thing he wanted to do was endanger her even more than she already was but shit, he wanted her so bad he could practically taste her.

Tomorrow was Saturday and maybe if he was lucky, he'd at the very least be able to observe her from a distance when Tig kicked the shit out of Darby's new lackey. Granted, he had to suffer through a quick shift at TM first but he was going to thoroughly enjoy watching Tig's stroke of good luck relay into a payout for the club. And even if hell froze over and Tig lost the fight, at least he'd get to suffer through some more self-induced torture by taking in the object of his obsession's every move from across the ring.

Only a few short eight hours later, he was toiling away on a Honda at TM and counting down the hours until the fight. Part of him felt a little guilty—he should be jacked up to cheer on Tig in earning the club some money and his focus was helplessly elsewhere. Hell, he was even having trouble focusing on something as simple as an oil change right now and Gemma's hovering was not helping matters. A quick glance towards the office told him that his mother still had her eagle eyes trained carefully on his back and he knew better than to give her a reason to call him into the office.

He had just finished up work on the Honda when his mother's stark, stern voice floated out around him: "Hey Jax?"

Shit. If it wasn't one fucking thing, it was the other fucking thing.

"Yeah, Ma?"

"Now that you're done with that Honda, can you make a tow run? Car broke down on the corner of Main and 10th Street downtown—the customers are waitin' for you so you better get a move on."

"Yes, ma'am." He saluted her playfully and wiped his hands clean as he made his way towards the tow truck. If anything, this little getaway was a welcome relief—his head just wasn't in his work today and if he didn't know any better, he'd say his mother had purposefully scheduled him on a Saturday morning just to torture him. Character building, she called it…cruel and unusual punishment was more like it.

All of that quickly flew to the wayside with a familiar Dodge Neon blasted into his view and his heart stuttered in his chest. Was it too pathetic to hope that Allie's cousin was with her? The obvious answer to that question was a qualified yes and he felt like an asshole being happy that Allie was still having car troubles. At least she hadn't gotten into another accident—the last one had definitely cost her a good chunk of change.

When he pulled up behind the Neon, his forehead creased into a confused frown—there was no one in the car. He quickly slid out of the truck and glanced around the street for any sign of Ava or Allie; there were plenty of places downtown they could've ducked into while they wanted for the tow and now it was just a matter of finding one of them, hopefully both. Just as he was about to try calling Ava to let her know she was there—of course, in the event that she actually with her cousin—he saw two flashes of blonde coming out of the coffee shop across the street from him. Ava and Allie were walking easily in stride together, cups of coffee in hand and they were chatting animatedly about something. He stood there next to the Neon, rooted to the pavement because all he could focus on was the fact that his imagination hadn't even come close to the real thing.

He hesitated in his indecision about how to play this—after all, they had an audience and even though Allie had walked in on them, there was no reason for her to figure out that they'd eventually finished what she had interrupted. He was about to call out to them when Ava glanced ahead to the street. Her eyes widened visibly even from where he stood and her steps skidded to a halt.

He couldn't stop the wide grin from spreading across his face at the sight of her. This was what he'd been wanting for almost a week and now that it was finally here, he almost didn't know what to do with it. So instead of dealing with the emotions that were fucking with his head, he ducked his head underneath the hood of the Neon to do a quick engine check and survey the damage. Avoidance seemed like the easiest option until she was standing right in front of him.

"Hi, Jax!" Allie's bright voice chirped out and he glanced up to find Allie standing right in front of him, with Ava hanging off to the side. He tugged a hand nervously through his hair and didn't miss the fact that Ava was chewing mindlessly on her bottom lip. This was going to be more difficult to tread than he thought.

"Hey, Allie, Ava," he grinned back to them, not wanting either to pick up on his anxiety. "Car troubles again, Allie?"

"Yeah, it just kinda died on us."

"Allie, he can't do anything to help you if you don't tell him what really happened…" Ava trailed off softly when her eyes shifted to nervously settle on him. "The steering wheel locked up on her and she was just able to pull over before the engine shut off."

Apparently, Allie's car bills were about to get even steeper.

"Sounds like a problem with the starter," he speculated as he leaned back against the hood.

"Is that expensive?" Allie asked in a hushed whisper.

"Sorry, little darlin'," he nodded with a wince. "The cost of a new starter is probably more than what this whole thing is worth at this point."

"Shit," Allie cursed and rubbed her eyes in agitation. Ava slung an arm over her shoulder and he had to smile at the interaction.

"Don't worry," Ava reassured her quietly, her eyes darted every few seconds back to him as she spoke. "We'll figure this out—I know you need a car. Don't freak out just yet."

"Why don't I get everything all set here and you ladies wait for me in truck, alright?" he offered. "Then we can sort all this out."

That seemed to curb the imminent nervous breakdown Allie was sure to suffer the second Gemma informed her that his original conjecture about the value of the Neon was spot-on. After he had the car secured behind the truck, he stepped around the side to pull open the driver's side door and a slow smirk slipped onto his lips when he realized that Ava had somehow gotten relegated to the middle of the seat with Allie grinning smugly up at him next to the passenger side window. Ava stared stiffly straight ahead as he slid in next to her. With a quick inhale, her sweet perfume filled his nostrils and he quickly realized that maybe having her this close and not being able to touch her was worse than not seeing her at all. His hands were practically twitching he wanted to touch her so bad.

The ride back to TM was probably one of the most uncomfortable things he'd ever experienced in his life—and that included walking in on Tig and that stripper with a strap-on. The worst part was he just couldn't think of anything to say that didn't involve a futile attempt at convincing Ava to reconsider cutting him off. Mindless conversation wasn't really on his radar right now.

Thankfully though, his mother put Allie out of her misery pretty quickly—only to set her off on a new wave of panic that she was better off totaling the Neon than paying for a new starter. He didn't need to be told twice to drive them back to Ava's house but unfortunately, the ride was even more awkward with Allie's quiet sniffling by the passenger window. This would not be an appropriate time to subtly brush his thigh against Ava's or lean a little too much to the right until their shoulders were touching.

When he pulled into Ava's driveway, Allie wasted no time in jumping out of the car and jogging towards the front door with her phone already attached to her ear and he could hear her venting to a friend even from the driveway.

Ava shifted anxiously next to him and he was suddenly acutely aware that she was only inches away from him. All he had to do was reach out and he'd be able to run his fingers up along her smooth thigh and inside the space in between her shorts and her underwear. It was then that he noticed her chest was heaving rapidly next to him and her breath was shaky, coming in and out in short rasps. He was clearly having the same effect on her as she was on him.

That was all the convincing he needed to gingerly slide his palm over until his fingers closed over her thigh. She jumped at the contact and her head whipped around, her eyes blazing with the same look he'd seen radiating from her in the motel room. He couldn't stop his fingers from slowly working their way up until they dipped inside the edge of her shorts when her hand abruptly pushed his fingers away.

"Jax…" she whispered hoarsely. "We can't…"

He swallowed and nodded—she was right; they were out in the open right now and careless groping in her driveway wouldn't solve this problem. "I'm sorry; I guess I couldn't help myself."

She chewed nervously on her bottom lip and he could see the struggle emanating in her eyes.

"How have you been doin'? Everything alright?" While he sincerely wanted to know the answer to those questions, he also just wanted to get her talking. This moment was something he'd been running through in his head for the past week and he couldn't blow it now.

"I've been fine," she murmured and he shifted so that his hip pressed into her. Just that little bit of contact seemed to completely take over his senses and he almost lost his shit right there.

"That's good to hear."

That was all he could come up with; this emotionally charged situation wasn't anything like an awkward encounter with the one-night stand you thought you'd never see again. This was different—he wanted to keep seeing her but that wasn't exactly in the cards.

"Thanks for the ride, Jax," she was saying now. "I know it's your job but I appreciate it anyways."

"No problem, darlin'."

When she started to slide towards the passenger side door, his hand shot out to pull her back towards him. She didn't resist and he took that as a good sign.

"Hey—you gonna be at the fight tonight?"

All he wanted was just to know if he'd be able to see her again tonight. That would be enough.

"No," she shook her head. "I have to work—Eric isn't fighting anyways so my uncle let me off the hook tonight."

That completely threw a wrench in his plans and the wheels in his head worked overtime to come with something on the fly. He knew he didn't have much time left before she'd have to go back inside but there had to be something…

"What time do you get off?"

"Ray said he'll probably let me go around 1—apparently the fights deplete business a little on Saturday nights," her lips curved up in a small smile as she spoke and he resisted the urge to trace a thumb over her cheek.

"Alright."

She turned back to him one last time with a sad smile before pushing the passenger door open and stepping out onto her driveway. His heart tightened in his chest as he watched her disappear inside her house and figured, if everything went the way he hoped it would, that divine intervention he'd been searching for had just smacked him right in the face.

* * *

"I know…I know, there's no way my dad is ever gonna give me any money for another car…"

Allie's frustrated, panicked voice shot out from the hallway and Ava sighed, wishing that her words weren't so true. Working at the American Eagle in the mall wasn't going to help Allie pay for another car anytime soon—at least not a decent one—especially since she had a sneaking suspicion that her cousin blew the majority of her paychecks on 'work clothes' anyways. As she cut through the living room, she was grateful to the hysterical cousin distraction right now. If she didn't need to shift into damage control mode, she would have to deal with the fact that she was still shaken and practically trembling from that intense, albeit brief, interaction with Jax in the truck.

Ava carefully ventured over to where her cousin was standing in the hallway with her back to her and opened her mouth to attempt some semblance of comfort but quickly snapped it shut at Allie's next words:

"I know, Tyler…I know…I don't know if I'll be able to get there tonight; Ava has to work so…." Allie trailed off as she turned on her heel. Her eyes widened when she realized Ava was standing right there and she abruptly ended the call with the guy on the other end.

After a moment of thick silence, Ava figured she needed to start somewhere. "So…who's Tyler?"

"Can we not do this right now? I kinda just had my whole life turned upside down and you're not helping but asking me stupid questions," Allie shot back hotly.

"Whoa," Ava held her hands up in defense. "First of all—stop being so dramatic. A broken down car isn't the end of your life. In case you forgot, I have a perfectly good vehicle that I'd be happy to share as long as you're nice to me. Second—who is Tyler?"

"In case _you _forgot," Allie pointed an angry finger at her. "I start volleyball on Monday and then school starts in another week and I have to be able to get to all of those places and I can't now because that stupid piece of shit decided to be a fucking pain in my ass and I don't have any money to get another one because I'm still paying for that stupid accident!"

Try as she might, Ava couldn't keep herself from biting her lip to stop her grin. These overly-dramatic hysterics were pretty entertaining and even though she got it—Allie was going to be a junior in high school and needed some freedom, especially from her father-this really wasn't the end of the world. They would figure something out and she really had no problem sharing until they came up with a plan.

"Stop laughing at me, Ava. It's not funny."

"Alright, alright…I'm sorry. You're right—look, I don't have to work on Monday so you can take my car to practice. I'll double-check the schedule tonight but I'm pretty sure I don't go in until later for the rest of the week anyways so that means you'll be back from practice in plenty of time before I have to go into work. We'll figure this out, Allie—you just have to stay with me here."

That seemed to calm her and Ava could see her shoulders visibly relax. Allie loosened her vice-grip on her phone and the color rushed back into her knuckles. If she could just keep her sane long enough, they could sit down at work out a schedule for sharing her car until they had enough money to get Allie another car. She reached out and pulled Allie into a quick hug, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Feel better now?"

Allie nodded quietly and blew out a deep breath. "Yeah, thanks."

"So…you wanna tell me who Tyler is?"

A mischievous glint crept up in Allie's eyes and she knew she was in the shit now. "Sure—but only if you tell me what's going on with you and Jax."

Well, two could play at this game.

"Fine," Ava smirked back at her. "You first. I take it he's not 'just a friend', right? Why didn't you tell me about him?"

Allie pushed out a forlorn sign and glanced down at her feet. "It doesn't matter anyways—it's not like I can really be with him."

"What do you mean?"

"You know there's no way my dad would ever let me date…he's just so fucking controlling. It's not fair—we can't do anything without a group of people with us. That's the only way I can get my dad to let me do anything and even then I have to beg and plead to get him to let me go any place that's not work or your house."

Ava felt her heart drop into her stomach…she had no idea this had been going on. That explained why Allie was always rushing off to go to the mall or the movies—that was the only way she could see him. She'd thought that her presence in Charming alone was enough to keep her uncle off of Allie's back and it seemed like she was wrong. Now, it was a surprise he was even allowing her to play volleyball since he was working at taking away anything good in his daughter's life—it was like he got off on that, like he took pleasure in their pain and that was probably truer than she wanted to know. It appeared as if her uncle's domineering demands didn't begin and end with her and he was essentially keeping both of them prisoner to his will. He was actively dictating both their lives and she would be damned if she let him get the shackles around his daughter any tighter.

"Why didn't you tell me, Allie? We can figure this out too…there's no reason why you can't really be with him. You just have to get creative."

"If my dad ever found out—shit, Ava, I wouldn't be able to leave the house for the rest of my life."

Ava just shrugged. "I've got a house—now, before you get too excited, I'm not saying you two can be here by yourselves but when I'm here, I don't see why he can't be here too every once and a while."

Allie's face broke out into a bright, wide grin. "Really?"

"Sure," she laughed. "Why should we both be miserable, right?"

The smile slipped off of her cousin's face. "Oh right…because you can't be with Jax."

Shit. She was hoping Allie would've forgotten about that...so much for wishful thinking.

"Nothing is going on with him, Allie."

"Yeah, right," she snorted. "Like I'm supposed to believe that? You were like a zombie in the truck with him before…and I thought he was going to pull over and jump on you right in front of me. Nothing going on my ass."

She huffed a little at that—there was nothing going on. What had happened between her and Jax was a one-time thing and that didn't classify it as 'something going on between them'. Despite her best efforts to convince herself otherwise, she knew, deep down, that she would give anything to change this situation. If the risk wasn't there, if there was no danger involved for her or Allie, she wouldn't hesitate to continue sleeping with him. It had been difficult to do just about anything the past week without conjuring up images from the few hours they'd spent together—the way he'd lightly trailed his fingers down her skin, his deep, consuming kiss, the intense waves of heat he'd sent rushing through her entire body, even his expert maneuvering to unclasp her bra—it was all etched in her mind and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I know it's not exactly the same thing as me and Tyler," Allie was saying now. "But you guys obviously want to be together so why not?"

"It's not that simple," she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. If only it was…they wouldn't be having this conversation right now. "It's not the same as you dating a boy from school—if you think your dad would lose his shit over that, can you imagine what would happen if he knew Jax and I were…"

"Screwing?" Allie finished for her with a sly shrug. "If you think Tyler and I can get away with hanging out here without anyone knowing, why can't you meet up with Jax somewhere without anyone knowing too?"

That girl was just too fucking smart for her own good. If she didn't know any better, she'd be willing to bet that Allie already suspected that her and Jax had went beyond what she'd walked in on. The longer they talked about this, the more she would consider what her wise-beyond-her-years cousin was suggesting. Time to get back to reality.

"You and I both know that things with your dad and Samcro are on pretty thin ice—if the wrong person found out, this could get ugly really quickly and I don't think you realize how bad it could get. Your dad is…"

"Ruthless? Cold? Calculating?" Allie offered helpfully.

"All of the above and then some."

"Okay," Allie reasoned. "But that's a big if, isn't it? I mean, come on, Ava—if Jax was looking at me the way he was looking at you in the truck today…man, I don't think I would be spending too much time worrying about all of that other stuff."

* * *

Allie's words were still swimming around in her head when she started her shift at Lucky's later that night. She felt like she was in a daze as she wiped down table after table and was grateful Ray had charged her with such a mindless task. The bar wasn't too crowded and she figured the fight that was currently going down outside of Charming's city limits had something to do with that. If the bar had been busy, she might have lost her mind a little.

No matter what she did to distract herself, the same question kept bouncing around in her mind: just how much a risk would it be if she and Jax kept meeting? The motel had worked out pretty nicely and there was nothing to say they couldn't switch it up every once and a while to maintain a little anonymity—even though some of that was futile anyways due to Jax's Harley and leather cut. But late at night, there wasn't anyone hanging around that would care enough to ask questions. Maybe they needed to venture out even further away from Charming; if they were careful and stayed in control, they could easily slip under the radar, couldn't they? On some level, it really wouldn't be that much different from what Allie was facing with this boy she liked. What they needed was a place to go where they would be shielded away from the reach of Samcro and the Nords and she was starting to feel like they could find that outside of Charming. And then when they were back in town, they could just pretend like they hardly knew each other—and the tension she'd endured earlier today with him would be gone.

She was sure the anxiety she'd felt around him centered around the fact that she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him—as well as berating herself for giving in to the one thing she couldn't have. It was worse than the tease she'd experienced the night they'd almost stupidly gave in at her house. She figured there would always be a little anxiety about getting caught-that thrill was part of what had pushed her over the brink in the first place-but that was a concession she was starting to warm up to.

When the door swung open and Jax stepped through the threshold, his eyes searching, she almost dropped the rag she was holding. Her eyes flew to the clock above his head and bit her lip to hide her smile when she realized he'd shown up exactly a half hour before her shift ended. When her gaze shifted back to him, heat pooled in her stomach as she took in the slow, lazy smirk that had spread across his face. That sexy smirk stayed right where it was as he sauntered over to the bar, a hand digging into his back pocket for his cigarette pack.

She didn't need to be told twice. A moment later, she swept the long-forgotten rag off the table and practically sprinted back behind the bar until they were face to face. He was perched calmly on a bar stool, his hands folded out in front of him, and his grin had only grown broader.

"Well," he leaned forward a little as he spoke. "If it isn't my favorite bartender…long time no see, huh?"

It took her a moment to gather her bearings and recover.

"Stalking me again? Wow…you never know when to quit, do you?" Her lips curved up as she spoke. She abruptly turned on her heel to grab an ice cold Bud Light from the case behind her and set it down in front of him with a triumphant grin.

His eyebrows rose suggestively at that. "Who's the stalker now, darlin'?"

"I'm just very observant…that's all."

He grinned again as he brought a cigarette to his lips and nodded to Ray as he past them. She knew she needed to get back to work—if she was really leaving in a half hour, there were some things she needed to finish first—but her feet were rooted right where she stood.

"So…did you leave the fight early or something?"

He shifted his lips so he didn't blow a stream of smoke in her face and shrugged. "It was over a little while ago—Tig beat the shit out of that kid…I wish you could've seen your uncle's face."

"I can imagine he wasn't very happy about that development." She grinned at the thought of her uncle's beet red, infuriated face. Uncle Ernie had to have been absolutely irate at the result of the fight and that knowledge only served to spike her adrenaline up a few more notches.

"Well, they're down two wins now—it wasn't all that exciting actually. The kid was down in about two punches, not like it was really much of a fair fight anyways."

"So you're here…"

His lips curved up as he took a pull from his beer bottle. "I'm here, darlin'…right at the end of your shift, huh?"

"Yeah, only about a half hour left if I get everything done."

His eyes never left hers as he set the bottle down in front of him. "Do what you need to do, darlin'. I'll be right here."

The implication of his words was not lost on her and Allie's words came snapping back to her—with the way his sparking eyes scaled over her and with the way her heart was stuttering in her chest, she didn't think she'd be able to do much of anything but follow Jax wherever he wanted to go and she had a feeling she knew exactly where he was going as soon as her shift was over. As she went back to her cleaning duties and left him at the bar with his beer and his cigarette, she was very aware that his eyes never strayed too far from her.

She knew exactly why he was here; even if she hadn't been contemplating the very same thing herself, the fact that he'd shown up here alone more than gave him away. Now that he was here and sitting only a few feet away from her, all of her reservations were a distant memory. There was no way she could keep this man at arm's length—she'd only managed to last a week and it had been one of the most frustrating, self-imposed torturous weeks of her life. There was only one way to alleviate that problem and the solution was sitting directly across from her. She'd been fighting a losing battle by attempting to cut him off from her; that clearly hadn't gone very well for either of them.

With five minutes left to go before she could leave, Jax finished the last of his second beer and tossed a few bills down onto the counter. She gingerly swept up his bottle and his money and bit her lip when he winked at her as he pushed himself off the stool. When the door closed behind him, she had a brief moment of panic now that he was gone. Suddenly, the fact that they had no plan to speak of was particularly worrying.

So when Ray gave her the okay to get out of there for the night, she grabbed her purse from under the counter with a shaky breath. Was he waiting for her out there? Was she just supposed to go the motel? Their habit of nonverbal and round-a-bout communication was suddenly very annoying. None of what had happened between them had been spoken aloud by either of them and that presented a problem now.

As she stepped out into the empty, dimly lit parking lot, she dug into her purse for her cigarette pack. She really needed to quit smoking…she'd managed it so well for the last couple years but after coming back to Charming, those efforts had all been shot to shit. Her fingers brushed against the carton deep within her purse but her head shot up at the sound of a low whistle to her left.

Jax was leaning up against his bike, his arms crossed over his chest and he waved her over. "Did I scare ya, Ava?"

"I wasn't sure if you were still here," she replied quietly and froze in place when she realized that he had pushed himself off his bike and was now stalking towards her. A hand shot out to her elbow and then he was leading her around the corner of the building into the shadowy darkness. The second they were safely hidden, her back hit the brick wall behind her and his lips descended on her as both his hands closed around her face. She hadn't realized how much she'd needed him like this—how much she'd missed it—and her hands twisted in his hair to draw him closer. She hitched a leg around his waist to accommodate him and almost cried out from the relief of having him back in between her legs. When a rough, calloused hand travelled down to grip her ass, she sighed against his lips.

He abruptly pulled his lips away and rested his forehead against hers, blowing out a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Ava…I just…I can't _not _have this; I don't think I'm gonna be able to settle for one time. I know you said we can't but—"

She cut him off by pressing a hard kiss into his lips and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I know what I said," she murmured into his lips. "But I can't do it either."

He tilted his head back to get a better look at her and brushed a wayward strand of hair off her face. "El Rancho motel?"

She nodded with a small smile, still unable to believe she was really doing this. After all her mental deliberations, it had all come down to this and here she was, taking the advice of a sixteen-year-old. But as she closed her eyes at the feel of his breath in her ear and his hands on her face, she knew that same sixteen-year-old had made a lot of sense.

"I got the details," he was saying now and pulled her hips up against him again as he spoke. "Just meet me there as soon as you can, alright?"

"I'm leaving right now."

His lips curved up into a smile. "Good—me too."

* * *

Jax blew out a long stream of smoke and leaned his head down to rest against Ava's still sweaty forehead, his fingers lightly tracing over the butterfly tattoo on her lower back. Her naked body curled into him at the contact and her fingers continued their ministrations on his bare chest. The heaving in her chest had calmed a little but he could still feel her rapid heart beat against his side. He'd thought the first time they'd had sex was pretty fantastic but this time had just built on that—they were more familiar which each other's bodies and they were now past the initial awkwardness that came along with this. There was no hesitation and he had a better idea of where to touch her, which places to trail light fingers over and which places to apply more speed and pressure and when she pulsed around him, she'd dug her fingernails into his back and cried out in release. There was nothing fucking hotter than that.

Of course, she'd picked up on what he needed with just as much deftness and he knew it was going to take him awhile to shake the intensity that had shuddered through his entire body when he came in her. While he didn't typically make a habit of comparing the women he'd bedded over the years, there just was no comparison with her. With Wendy—there was reliability and routine and little surprise. But she was always around when he needed her and that was exactly why he kept her on the sidelines. Maybe it was just because this was new and different and exciting but he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt thoroughly satisfied like this after sex.

There'd always been a bit of emptiness in the nights he spent with women in his dorm, always like there should be something more with the act. As Ava nestled her cheek into his shoulder, he wondered if maybe this was what it was supposed to feel like, if he was supposed to want her to stay in his arms like this for the rest of the night as opposed to throwing her clothes at her on her way out of his dorm. All he knew was that he wanted to stay—that he didn't want to leave her tonight. This motel room wasn't anything special but he felt relaxed here and separated from Charming. He'd never thought he'd ever feel that way about his town but he felt it now.

"When did you get this?" He murmured into her hair as his fingers trailed over her tattoo again.

She laughed against his lips and leaned into his shoulder. "I was 18 and stupid. I guess I just wanted to prove my independence to Isabelle."

"Who's Isabelle?" He frowned.

"My aunt's best friend…she send me to live with her in San Francisco when I was fourteen." There was something in her voice that suggested there was more to this story and something flashed across her eyes that worried him.

"That was when you left Charming, right?"

She nodded into his shoulder again. "Yeah."

Seeing her need for a change in subject, he lifted up his arm and gestured towards the tattoo on his forearm. "I got this one when I turned 18 too—it's for my dad."

Her finger trailed lightly over the ink on his skin and he had to suppress a shiver at the feeling. "I like it. I bet that Reaper on your back took forever…"

He nodded, an image of him stuck in that tattoo chair for hours washed over his mind. "Yeah, it did."

"How many times did you have to go back?"

"I did it all in one sitting."

Her eyes widened at his words and her mouth dropped open slightly. "What? That's crazy…that had to have taken…"

"About eight hours," he smiled into her hair. "I wanted to prove to Clay and everyone else that I could take it…that I wasn't gonna have anything just handed to me because of who my dad was. I wanted them to know I was serious about patchin' in."

"That's some bad-ass shit, Jax. Eight hours? I barely survived the hour it took to get that stupid butterfly." She laughed against him, her head tilting up so she could meet him in the eye. Her blue eyes were sparkling up at him and his heart tightened in his chest just from that one look.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you did it—it's fuckin' sexy."

She just laughed again and snuggled up even closer to him. At this point, they were completely tangled up in each other and it felt like every inch of him was somehow touching her body. There was still the underlying notion that he'd never completely been this way with a woman before—the physical and emotional intimacy—and that he wasn't tearing himself off the bed to get as far away from her as possible was something he would have to wrestle with later.

"How much longer can you stay?" She whispered into his shoulder.

He chewed on his bottom with a glance towards the alarm clock and frowned. It was already past three and his excuse for his absence at the clubhouse was probably set to expire soon. He ran a tired hand over his face and wished that they could just stay. It would be so much easier but on the other hand, it would only make an already complicated situation even more fucked up.

"I think I could stay a little bit longer if you can," he offered, not wanting to get out of bed just yet.

She grinned up at him and then settled back into his shoulder, lightly running her fingertips along his skin. "I think I could manage that."

He rolled himself over until he could press a light kiss into her lips and she chuckled as she wrapped a hand around his neck. He kissed her long and slow, memorizing the feel of her soft lips, the way her mouth parted to give him easier access—he didn't know when they would get the chance to do this again and knew he would need these images to last him until they could meet up again. He pulled his lips away from her mouth and starting working his way down to her neck, leaving a wet trail from her jaw-line down to the soft crevice in her neck. When she sighed against his cheek, he grinned into her fragrant skin.

"When can we do this again, Jax?" She exhaled.

"I thought you'd never ask, darlin'," he grinned down at her. "I've got some club shit to take care of next week but I can work around it…what about Monday? Same time, same place?"

She shook her head quickly and he pushed down the brief moment of panic that threatened to grab hold of him. He didn't know which part of that she was saying no to and he wasn't going to sink ever deeper by contemplating the fact that she could be saying no to all of it.

"I'm closing on Monday—that would probably be pretty late for both of us to get there. I'm off Tuesday though."

He frowned as his brain worked through this—he was going on a three day protection run on Tuesday and he'd originally wanted to make sure he could see her before he left but it looked like they were going to have some scheduling issues. There was no way he could wait until after he got back—besides, he'd be due to make an appearance at the clubhouse on Friday and would most likely be unable to slip away unnoticed. His presence was rightfully mandatory and he needed to be careful with how often he went missing.

"Monday has to be it then—I'm not gonna be around for the rest of the week and I don't want to have to wait until after I get back to see you again."

"Okay," she smiled up at him and he traced his thumb across her cheek before leaning down to kiss her again. "What do you say anyways—you know when you picked me up that night, last week after the fight, tonight…where do you say you're going?"

"Nobody's even asked until after I get back," he shrugged. "But if someone does—like tonight—I just said I was goin' for a ride, which isn't completely a lie, right?"

She chuckled and swatted him playfully in the chest. "I think it would be more accurate to say _I _was going for a ride but I get it…I was thinking—maybe we should try finding a different motel. We still need to be careful, Jax."

"You're right," he nodded in thought. "But I think as long as we keep our shit together, don't raise up any suspicions, change up the place—like you said—I think we're in the clear, babe."

She smiled again and lifted her head up to kiss him. "I'll figure something out and let you know."

"I take it you need to get goin', Ava?" He didn't want to leave just yet but at some point, they were going to have to part ways tonight.

"Probably."

He nodded as she rolled away from him and tossed the blankets back so she could slip out of bed. Leaning back against the pillow, he quickly mashed out his spent cigarette so he could focus on watching her put her clothes back on—it would've been just as hot as watching her take them off except for the fact that it meant they would be leaving soon. When she was fully clothed and running her hands through her sex-tangled hair, he grimaced as he pushed himself out of bed and blew out an exasperated sigh.

As he zipped his fly and threw his cut back on, he put another cigarette to his lips just for good measure. He'd be able to work out this nervous anxiousness on the ride back into Charming but for now, he wasn't prepared to let her see that he didn't quite have his shit together here. He'd thought this would be easy—that he'd meet her here and they would have their fun and then they'd both leave and go back to their separate lives. Even waiting until Monday night seemed it was going to be difficult and that was just two days. Nothing could ever really be simple though.

"The room's in your name so you'd better go check us out," her soft voice floated around him and when he glanced up, his gaze collided with her somber sapphire eyes.

"Right," he strode up next to her and rested a hand on her neck, running his thumb on her cheek.

"We're really gonna do this, huh?" Her voice was soft and the touch of hesitancy he heard immediately threw him off guard. His face must have mirrored his brief panic when her eyes widened and her hands went around his neck to reassure him.

"I didn't mean it like that," she whispered up at him. "I guess I'm just still a little…unsure of how to go about this. But that doesn't mean I still don't want to…"

He blew out the breath he hadn't know he was holding and felt instantly relieved that she didn't feel pressured to do something she didn't want to do. That was the last thing he wanted but he couldn't blame her for the momentary hesitation—they were treading on some dangerous territory here in more ways than one. He had never needed to sneak around before so navigating around that was going to take careful, precise planning and execution to not put her in the line of fire. He couldn't lose his head here and he needed to remember that.

"So…Monday?"

"Monday." She affirmed with a small smile.

He swallowed tightly when she started stepping to the door and he had a sudden urge to pull her back and haul her ass back to bed with him. But that wasn't going to solve anything—it would only serve to delay the inevitable. So instead of throwing her over his shoulder, he reached out until his fingers gently pulled her back to him. He laid both hands around her face and kissed her one more time before letting her step out into the night and back to reality.


	7. Calm

HOUSE OF CARDS

Chapter Seven

"Alright, boys," Clay called the meeting to order as he pounded the gavel. "We've got some business to take care of but let's make this quick. It's a Friday and I think Jax, Opie, and Chibs deserve to let loose a little here. Now, a couple of things went down when you boys were gone on that run so let's bring you up to speed."

That sparked Jax's complete attention and he mashed his spent cigarette into the ashtray to his left. After three days on the road, he was tired, a little irritable, and just wanted a beer. It had been a few months since he'd been on a protection run and he'd quickly forgotten just how exhausting those runs could be.

"Let's start with the most pressing matter," Clay continued. "I got a call from Darby yesterday asking me if we'd be interested in forgoing the fight tomorrow and have a friendly poker game instead as a way to apologize for the warehouse incident a few weeks ago."

"Don't you think it's a little late for that?" Jax snorted. "What's the endgame here?"

"That's what I thought," Clay nodded as he took a long pull from his cigar.

"Apparently, Hale has been on Darby's ass with the investigation and he wants to make it clear to the PD that their beef with us is dead and buried." Tig said from his side of the Redwood.

"So what's in it for us, then?" Opie asked quietly as he ran a hand over his beard in thought.

"We get to pretend like we're all getting along and that keeps Hale out of our hair for a little longer," Bobby reasoned. "Let's not forget the fact that Captain America is always looking for a way to search and destroy—that fight at Lucky's definitely didn't help our cause but this could be a way to help turn the tide in our favor."

"Who's to say this isn't all a set-up though?" Piney's gruff voice echoed from across the table. "I don't trust those white hate bastards as far as I can throw them, which ain't sayin' much."

"I'm with Piney on this one," Jax eyed Clay carefully as he spoke.

"So we give Darby a counter-offer then," Tig offered. "Let's bring 'em to the clubhouse—our turf, our rules—they leave their weapons at the door and bring their women with them. He doesn't like it—no deal and no loss to us."

"Playing this game could be beneficial to us in the long run—no one here wants war with the Nords and if we concede with a few amendments to the agreement that makes us look good in everyone's book—some good publicity for once could go a long way." Clay said as he flicked some cigar ash. "I highly doubt Darby would be stupid enough to try anything tomorrow night, especially at the clubhouse."

If the Nords played by their rules, Jax figured, the night would most likely go off without a hitch. He felt much better now that they'd laid some ground rules and knew that although Darby was a bastard, he was still a smart bastard. With Hale on his back, Jax doubted Darby would do anything to sabotage the night, especially if they were at the clubhouse and kept their weapons at the door. Clay was right—they needed to keep up the façade of peace, especially since Hale was on high alert after his fuck-up at Lucky's. Plus, he figured Darby would drag Ava along and if there was anywhere she was safe, it was at the clubhouse.

"Next order of business," Clay grabbed the reins again and moved them along. "Our Irish contact in the States reached out to us about doing some business and he offered to let us test-drive the product before cutting the deal. For me, personally, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't deal with our brothers across the Atlantic. We gotta set the example as the mother charter and if we scratch their backs, they'll scratch ours when we need them."

"We need another way to earn," Jax nodded in agreement. "The Irish could be reliable business in the future for us."

"Agreed, brother." Opie sounded off from the other side of the table.

The vote for both actions went quickly and Jax was grateful they were almost done with church. He was suddenly struck by the realization that this poker night was going to be a hindrance to his standing plans with Ava tomorrow night but quickly shook that from his mind. He needed to focus on what was best for the club here—not on getting laid. Granted, he hadn't seen her since their meeting before he left for the run and he was itching to get her into bed again. At the very least, she'd most likely be in the clubhouse tomorrow and he'd just have to get by with that.

"Before we're done here," Clay was saying now. "I just want to remind everyone that that god-damn Taste of Charming fundraiser is tomorrow and unless you all want a size-nine stiletto heel up your ass, you'd better make sure you're there. My old lady will not hesitate to rip anyone sitting at this table a new one if you don't, myself included…"

A round of chuckles went around the table as Clay pounded the gavel to signal the end of church. When Clay left to make the call to Darby, Jax found himself sitting in a booth by the pool table with Wendy curled up in his lap. Her hands were working their way down the front of his jeans but he was too distracted to care all that much. She let out an exasperated huff and pulled a little bit harder on his hair to force him to look at her.

"What's wrong, Jax?" She cooed into his ear and he reflexively leaned away from her.

"Nothing…I'm just tired." He was really just in no mood for her shit tonight. The sad thing was, if he wanted to, he could very easily get out of the booth, head back to his dorm, and she would follow him without a single word. This whole situation was becoming pathetic on both sides and he was just about done with it—this didn't interest him at all anymore and at the moment, all he wanted to do was just crash in his bed.

With that thought, he abruptly pushed Wendy away and, despite her protests, stalked to his dorm without as much as a glance behind him. He didn't care if Wendy was following him or not—she wasn't coming with him. His bed was a sight for sore eyes and two seconds later, he was facedown on the mattress. Finally able to relax, a deep exhale left his lungs and with the party shut out to a low rumble behind his door, he felt like he could finally breathe.

Before he could stop himself, his fingers were digging into his back pocket for his prepay. He quickly flipped it open and stared at Ava's name in his contact list for at least a good two minutes. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get away tonight without raising some eyebrows, he figured he could settle for just hearing her voice…what the fuck was wrong with him? What was he doing to himself? A hand rubbed at his tired eyes and he sighed again.

When he'd played this situation with Ava out in his mind, he'd imagined it going a little differently. They would meet up every once and a while, they'd fuck, they'd leave, and then that would be it until the next time they could meet. He hadn't anticipated he would feel like this in between—fuck, he missed her…he missed everything—her laugh, her skin, her smile, her hair. The fact that their time together had to be so short just made the space in between seem that much longer.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be—this wasn't how he was supposed to be feeling right now. They'd only actually hooked up three times. That was it. He had no attachment to her and no obligation to be anything to her. And he needed to remember that—even if he had to tattoo it to his hand.

Despite his best efforts, he closed his eyes and pushed the send button. In a moment of panic, he realized that he didn't know if she was working or at Darby's house or something in between. Whatever his relationship with her was—they still had to be careful and he could've just blown that all completely by carelessly calling for no real reason.

A few rings later, she answered. "Hello?"

His heart was thundering in his chest and he suddenly couldn't remember why he was even calling her in the first place.

"Hey, Ava," he started hesitantly.

"Hi, Jax..."her voice seemed surprised but there was a touch of happiness there that pushed him to continue and not just hang up. "You just get back?"

"A few hours ago, yeah…"

There was a short pause and he could tell she was waiting for him to say something but for the life of him, he couldn't come up with anything.

"So…" she started again. "Is everything alright, Jax? You sound kinda off."

"I'm just exhausted," he replied quickly. "The last three days took a lot out of me, actually."

"Okay, so, no disasters? Everything still in one piece?"

"I got home safe and sound…thanks for asking," he grinned into the phone. "But if you're that concerned, you're more than welcome to investigate for yourself, darlin'."

"Wow," she laughed. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed me a little bit, huh?"

If only she knew just how right she was…

"Well," he recovered, probably a little too quickly. "It's not like you're easy to miss…speaking of which, I think we might have to reschedule for tomorrow."

"Why's that?"

"There's no fight tomorrow night—the Nords are gonna be at the clubhouse for poker—"

"What?" She laughed and he couldn't help but agree. The whole thing sounded completely ridiculous and he hadn't even spoken the words out loud yet.

"Yeah, I know…apparently, your uncle is trying to keep up peaceful appearances so we're hosting them at the clubhouse. I'm assumin' you're gonna be dragged along for the party too and—"

"There's no way either of us will be able to get away without anyone noticing." She finished for him with a sigh.

"I wish it didn't have to be that way but better safe than sorry, right?" He was trying to joke—make light of the situation—but it didn't seem that funny.

"You're right," she replied softly. "When do you think you'll be able to get away again?"

He was glad she wasn't in the room with him right now because a huge, shit-eating grin spread across his face. "Sunday? I can probably get away for awhile then—the clubhouse is pretty dead on Sunday nights."

"That sounds good to me."

"So I'll see you tomorrow night then?" He was trying not to sound over-eager but was having a hard time keeping a lid on it.

"Are you going to be at that Taste of Charming thing tomorrow? Allie and I have to set up a booth there for my uncle so I'll be there…"

"Yeah, definitely," he wanted to kick himself at how stupid he must sound to her right now. What was he, fifteen? Talking to a girl on the phone for the first time? He wasn't stupid; he was fucking pathetic.

"I take it you'll be there," she laughed.

"Yeah, darlin', I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe I'll sneak a hot dog or two from you when my mom's not looking—she'll fuckin' castrate me if she sees me buying food from another booth other than hers."

"Well, wouldn't want that, now would we? I'm not making a reservation on Sunday night just for the conversation with you."

He had to shake his head at the dig—he never knew what was going to come out of her mouth next and he loved that about her. It was just one more thing to look forward to and one more thing to miss about her when she was gone.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, Jax. See you tomorrow. Thanks for calling…you know, to let me know what you were alright."

"Anytime, darlin'," he smiled and then hit the end button with a sigh.

This was the part he hated—the part where he had to say good-bye to her. To make matters worse, he wasn't even sure how to feel about seeing her tomorrow at the fundraiser or the clubhouse. In both situations, he had to pretend like she was nothing more than a bartender at a bar he technically wasn't even supposed to go to anymore. But he had to keep playing that role—they hadn't even been playing at it for very long and he was already struggling with the lines. He had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be very trying on every possible level.

* * *

"Jesus Christ, Allie, it doesn't have to be perfect!" Ava grunted from her end of the booth.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Allie yelled back to her from the other end and abruptly tossed the rest of the hot dogs buns haphazardly on the platter, effectively ruining her meticulous work. "I just want it to look good…"

"I know, I know but we've got, like, no time before everyone gets in here and we're not even close to being ready to serve anything."

"Well, I guess we're just gonna have to work with what we got…not like my dad helped at all." Allie scowled as she lifted the lid on the hot dog pot and gave it a quick stir.

Ava sighed and nodded exasperatedly. Her uncle had sprung this on them only two days before and while it really shouldn't have been a surprise, she was still thrown by his inability to understand that they needed more than two days to pull this off. He was expecting some grand show like her aunt used to do but that just wasn't going to happen. Even if they had more time, there would be no topping the organization Aunt Anna had nailed down to a 't'.

"I guess we've got something to show for ourselves…it's not much but it's something," Ava allowed finally as she surveyed their spread. It really wasn't much—just some hot dogs, soda, and cookies they'd managed to whip up the night before. At this point, she really didn't see them making much money but she figured that was the least of her uncle's worries. It was just all about putting on the show, about going through the motions to look like the respectable, God-fearing, and community-minded man that he definitely wasn't.

"So is he coming today or what?" Ava asked curiously.

Allie exhaled softly and cast a forlorn look into the distance. "He said he was…but I don't know; he still might not."

"Oh, come on," Ava reassured her. "That guy is freakin' crazy about you."

"You think so?"

"Wow…"

Allie blew out a breath and tucked some hair behind her ear with a huff. "I know, I know…I think I'm starting to sound like you…I'm not very happy about that."

Ava responded by tossing a hot dog bun in her cousin's direction. "Bitch!"

In their distracted, albeit brief, argument, neither noticed the small group of people that were crowding up to their booth. When Ava looked back out into the school's parking lot, her breath caught in her throat when she realized that not only was Jax swaggering his way up to them, but Opie, a short brunette woman, and two small children were in tow behind him. Jax was barely concealing the cocky smirk on his face and it was difficult not to physically react to the image in front of her.

"How's it goin', ladies?" Jax called out good-naturedly to them as the group approached. "Figured we'd be good neighbors and stop over to say hello. Get some of these cookies that look so good…"

"Ava made them last night," Allie blurted out, prompting Ava to shoot her a stern, hard look.

Jax's eyebrows rose. "Well, in that case, I guess I better take two then."

The woman standing next to Opie just rolled her eyes and reached out her hand towards Ava. "Don't pay any attention to him; he's like this all the time. I'm Donna, Opie's wife and these are my kids, Ellie and Kenny. It's nice to finally meet you."

All formality aside, the warm welcoming in this woman's eyes was a relief. It was nice to be seen as a person by a resident of Charming instead of irrevocably connected to the abhorring actions of her uncle. The people in this town were, at least, somewhat understanding when it came to Samcro's not-so-legal dealings because Samcro also worked at keeping the bad guys, like the Nords, at bay. But given that Samcro and the Nords were constantly clashing, most people were probably right to keep their distance from anyone associated with either 'organization' anyway. Either way, it was nice to see that some things were just obsolete details to certain people. With that thought, she eagerly extended her hand to shake Donna's.

"Oh shit, Ava," Allie cried out suddenly, whipping around with wild eyes. "He's here!"

"Who's here?" She frowned. For a brief moment, she thought her cousin was referring to good ol' Uncle Ernie but when her gaze travelled in the direction where Allie was discreetly pointing, her face broke out into a wide grin. Tyler was striding up to them with his hands shoved sheepishly in his pockets, his eyes darting around nervously as he approached their booth. When he realized who was currently standing in front of their booth—the domineering, albeit curious, stares of Jax Teller and Opie Winston—he almost skidded to a complete stop.

"Hi, Tyler," Ava grinned knowingly and waved him over despite their mixed company. "Nice to see you again."

"Yeah, hey, Ava—thanks for letting me come over again the other night…that was really cool," Tyler replied slowly, eyeing Jax and Opie carefully.

Ava smiled brightly, trying not to pay any unnecessary attention to the fact that Jax's eyes immediately flew to her. "No problem."

From an outsider's vantage point, the scene had to have looked absolutely ridiculous. Allie was doing her best to keep her excitement under wraps but was clearly having a hard time containing her elation at Tyler's appearance…like there'd ever been any doubt that he was going to show up. Tyler looked like he was about to throw up—from under the weight of Jax's wary stare or from being so close to Allie, Ava wasn't completely sure. Opie and Donna were just watching the exchange curiously. It was all a little too much.

Deciding to put everyone out of their misery, Ava quickly gestured towards the small group in front of her. "Tyler, I'm sure you know Jax Teller and Opie and Donna Winston…"

Tyler shifted uncomfortably as Jax firmly shook his hand with a nod and then reached over to take Opie and Donna's hand as well. She hadn't necessarily meant to put the kid on the spot like that but she had to admit…it was kinda fun watching him squirm.

"Um…Ava?" Allie asked quietly and then gestured with her head towards the back end of their booth. Ava quickly scanned the rest of the parking lot on lookout for her uncle and when she didn't see him, nodded back to her cousin.

"Go ahead—you're in the clear for now." She couldn't suppress the sly smirk that crossed over her face when Allie and Tyler's eyes consecutively lit up and then they scampered behind the tarp to slid out to a place they could talk.

"Kids…" Donna laughed, shaking her head at the display. "I'm not looking forward to when Ellie gets to be that age…"

"It's gonna be a nightmare for you and Ope, that's for sure..." Jax added with a smirk.

"That was really nice of you though, Ava…to cover for them like that." Donna went on quietly.

She just shrugged, willing her eyes to stay away from Jax's. "My uncle isn't big on letting her date and if the circumstances were different, I wouldn't be able to say much but since…well, I don't see the harm in letting her have some fun every once and awhile."

Unable to stop herself, her gaze slowly and discreetly slid over to Jax and she had to restrain any sort of physical reaction to him. She hadn't expected it to be this difficult…being so close yet so far apart. They had to act like they hardly knew each other and while, in reality, they hadn't really known each other that long, the intimacy…and the connection…was becoming increasingly difficult to fight against. The way he was watching her now—his blue eyes scorching right through her—wasn't making it any easier. She wondered fleetingly if all this effort at duplicity was counterproductive…was she being too stand-offish? Would Opie and Donna both be able to just see right through this little act? She supposed there was no point in stressing out about this now, especially when they were still standing right in front of her.

The little girl, Ellie, with her chubby cheeks and bouncing blonde curls, was tugging on both Jax and Opie's shirts and Ava's heart flipped over when Jax smiled down at the little girl and ruffled her hair.

"Come on," Ellie pleaded. "Can't we play some games now? You promised you'd do the egg toss with me, Uncle Jax!"

"Alright, alright..." Jax grinned down at her. "Chill out, little darlin'—let's do this thing then."

He jutted out his elbow and the little girl proudly stuck her arm through it. As they headed down the parking lot towards the designated game area, Jax turned back to them and winked playfully at Donna before waving briefly to Ava. She had to take a deep breath to regain her bearings. Seeing him like this, out in town, acting like just another ordinary citizen and not some badass biker outlaw was a little unnerving—especially since they had an audience.

"Always the charmer," Donna muttered under her breath with another shake of her head.

"We should probably get back," Opie nodded over to her and extended his hand again for her to shake. "It was nice seein' you again, Ava."

He started steering Donna back towards Samcro's booth and Donna waved back to her, calling out: "Nice meeting you, Ava!" before disappearing into the mounting crowd.

After that, she was almost grateful for the peace and quiet, next to the customers that showed up every once and awhile to their booth. Samcro's booth was clearly more appealing to the attendees but Ava knew not to take that as a slight. Gemma Teller-Morrow probably had gold-plated hot dogs over there or something. No competing with that. Even so, with Allie safely tucked away from sight—mainly to sneak in a few private moments with Tyler—it was much easier for her to sit back and observe Jax without much worry about being seen. Everyone else around her was preoccupied so she carefully allowed her gaze to drift over to the activities' station every once and awhile.

She had to bit her lip to keep her smile from spreading too broadly across her face. Jax and Ellie were playfully tossing the egg back and forth about ten yards away from her and she almost laughed out loud when Ellie purposefully tossed it a little too hard so Jax would accidentally crush the egg in his hands. He yelped in surprise and then made an elaborate show of chasing after Ellie, almost Frankenstein-like, with the egg still all over his hands. It was cute but it was also a scene that she hadn't been prepared to see.

She was still watching, maybe a little too closely, when Jax rejoined the Samcro group across the parking lot. Her heart just about leapt into her throat when that bleached blonde bitch she recognized from a few weeks ago wrapped her arms around Jax's neck and pulled him close to her. She waited for Jax to respond, to put his arms around her too, grab her ass, kiss her, something but that never happened. Instead, his arms hung limply at his sides like he didn't know what to do. Ava watched as Jax turned his head back to the booth, probably to glance at his mother, who was watching the scene play out in from her with a sour expression. It was clear Gemma didn't care for this woman—what was her name? Wendy?—anymore than she did.

This was just one more thing she hadn't planned on…the cold, ugly hand of the green-eyed monster. There was no legitimate reason for her to be even remotely jealous here. Jax was a free man. They had no commitment or attachments to each other. He could do whatever he wanted and so could she. Then why was it so hard to watch this? Even if Jax wasn't playing along, why did she want to rip Wendy's hands off?

All of this was her own fault. She had no one to blame but herself for this one—she and Jax had only slept together three times. Sure, those three times had been close to explosive and would forever be seared into her memory, but he wasn't her boyfriend. He couldn't be and that was the point. They were both free to do whatever and whomever they wanted. But if that was the case, why was she unable to tear her eyes away?

* * *

Ernest Darby sat back in his easy chair as he took a long pull from the ice cold beer in his hand. At 52, the years hadn't necessarily been kind to him and he certainly hadn't helped matters by smoking, drinking, and eating anything he felt like. But those kinds of concerns, such trivial concerns, were of little consequence. He was all about the excess—whatever he wanted, he wanted all of it and he rarely settled for less. So when he had talked his stubborn, too-smart-for-her-own-good niece into moving back to Charming, he had expected it to go a certain way. She would abide by his rules, he would pay her rent, Miles would finally get the woman he'd been itching for, and everyone would happy.

It hadn't occurred to him that his niece had had other plans. She was being a fucking bitch and he was sick and tired of her holier-than-thou attitude. She had absolutely zero right to show up to any of his Nord functions with that sort of non-compliant attitude. She was family which, by all rights, meant she had to do what he said. He was very aware of the fact that she would not be pleased when he told her Miles would be escorting her to Samcro's clubhouse later that evening. He highly anticipated some sort of clever excuse but there would be no exemptions tonight. She was going to the clubhouse whether she liked it or not and she _would_ cooperate.

There was too much riding on this night for him to be worrying about her performance anyways.

Samcro was weak. More accurately, Clay was weak. He'd proved that the moment he refused to retaliate for the warehouse incident. Hell, Clay Morrow was nothing more than a figurehead at this point. For years, he'd watched Clay and his Samcro assholes get richer and richer while he seemed to just get poorer and poorer. It wasn't like he was destitute by any means but the declining economy hadn't seemed to touch Samcro and all their 'businesses' the way it had the Nords. It was all Darby could do to just make the mortgage payments on his house—Anna's life insurance was only going to take him so far. It wasn't near enough for retirement and he still had a teenager to get rid of, who was most likely going to be asking for a handout when she got to college.

Now was the time to strike. With Clay getting older and weaker by the day, it was anyone's guess as to how long the bastard could realistically stay at the head of Samcro's table and their VP was still too young and inexperienced to really know to influence. So when Clay failed to take his bait, he took it as a sign—it was time to start moving their product out of the cooking house and finally put it in the hands of waiting customers. There was a market for meth in Charming, he was sure of it. One trip to The Hairy Dog and he could sell an entire batch if he felt like it—there were plenty of takers if he was finally giving.

Besides, their investors were starting to get impatient and he never liked to keep the suits waiting. Even if they were brethren, they were still rich bastards and he hated that he had to take money from up the ranks of the movement to get this business finally up and running. It had been a long time coming—Clay was nothing but hot air and empty threats.

He couldn't wait any longer which was exactly why this night was so important to his plans. Samcro needed to feel safe; each and every single one of them needed to believe that the warehouse was an isolated incident—that it wouldn't happen again. There would be no cause for concern or any unnecessary eyes on any of his boys when the time came to finally begin moving the Nord product—which was about to be any day now if all went down as planned. It didn't matter that any Samcro knowledge of this would result in all-out war. The Nords—he especially—needed the money and it was an easy risk to take when push came to shove.

Besides, he thought with a smirk, it wasn't like Samcro could really do anything about it anyways. They were weak and they'd always been weak. It was time he capitalized on that weakness.

* * *

**A/N-Sorry for the extremely long wait for this. Despite the wait, I hope you liked it. I know it didn't seem like a lot was really happening but in a lot of ways, it's really the calm before the storm...**

**Please let me know what you thought and I promise I'll have the next chapter up soon! R/R!**


	8. What Doesn't Kill You

HOUSE OF CARDS

Chapter Eight

Ava stared at her reflection in the mirror and blew out a shaky breath. She fiddled nervously with her makeup bag and tugged at her skirt a little. It was going to ride up no matter what she did but there was a dress code she needed to be mindful of and her uncle had been very clear about what her role was in the night's events. All she was supposed to do was stay on Eric's arm, look pretty, and be quiet…that wouldn't be so hard, right? It would've been just like another night except for the fact that they were going to Samcro's clubhouse.

This was a first for the Nords and it was painfully obvious from the thick agitation radiating from everyone in her uncle's house. The second her 'driver' brought her over, she'd holed herself up in the bathroom, hoping to stall any contact with Eric for as long as possible. She had a sinking feeling that the night's setting was going to make him even more aggressive than usual. He had a real, genuine audience now and she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't hesitate to put on a show of masculinity in front of Samcro. For some reason, she couldn't stomach the idea of Jax seeing that—Eric with his hands all over her—hell, she didn't want anyone in Samcro to see that. The last thing she wanted to do was give Jax the impression that she and Eric were sleeping together and she had no idea why that bothered her so much.

This wasn't going to be the same as when they were at a party at her uncle's house…she had never been to the clubhouse before and had no idea where she could go to hide. She certainly couldn't lock herself in Jax's room, as appealing as that sounded. Barricading herself in the bathroom would only take her so far as well…her uncle was expecting her to represent the Nords' women, to look and be classier than Samcro's women, and to overall be on her best behavior. Besides, hiding out in the bathroom would mean she'd have to come face to face with every croweater in the clubhouse at some point and that didn't sound like a very good idea either.

In an effort to kill more time, she carefully applied another layer of black mascara and fleetingly wondered if she was wearing too much makeup. She knew she needed to layer it on a little bit to fit in with the crowd tonight but she wanted to avoid the hooker look at all costs—no need to repeat that happy little memory.

A loud pounding on the door startled her and she nearly dropped the tube in her hand.

"Ava? You still in there?" Eric's voice rang out from behind the door. "Open up!"

She stared back at her reflection in shock. For a moment, she was completely frozen and her brain couldn't keep up with the warning bells going off in her head. She glanced warily over to the window…there was no way that was going to work tonight. What the hell was she going to do? He was just going to keep pounding on the door until she finally opened it and when she did…her mind wouldn't let her go there just yet. She had no options, no Plan B, nothing. She was screwed.

After slowly sliding the mascara back into her makeup bag, she bit her lip and winced as she hesitantly opened the bathroom door. A split second later, Eric's hand clamped around doorframe and gripped the doorknob with the other as he pivoted into the bathroom. She stumbled backwards in shock, her heel almost catching on the edge of the bathroom rug, and she kept moving until her back hit her one-time savior—the window. There was no where to go. No where to hide.

Eric leaned back against the door for a few long moments, his black eyes snaking up and down her body like a predator assessing its prey. He was dressed in his typical uniform—white wife beater and dirty, low-slung jeans, his swastika tattoos on full, horrible display. He ran a hand over his shaved head and then started cracking his knuckles in front of him as he stalked closer to her. In her Jax-induced haze, she'd forgotten just how frightening Eric could be; her close-call only over a week ago had been almost completely wiped from her memory thanks to her late-night meetings and obsessing over Jax. But now that Eric was sliding up next to her and her back was against the wall, she felt nothing but the cold hand of fear gripping her body.

"We should probably get going, right?" She started shakily. "I'm sure everyone is waiting for me downstairs-"

"Nah," Eric cut in with a wave of a hand, his skull ring glinted menacingly underneath the glare of the bathroom lights. "We've got some time. I just wanted to come up here and see if you needed any help."

She swallowed tightly and abruptly shook her head. "Thanks but I'm fine. I'm all ready, actually…"

His eyes darkened dangerously at her words and she felt her chest heaving in more rapidly as her anxiety mounted. He was still inching closer to her and she could already smell the alcohol on his breath.

"You know, Ava," he started hotly. "I'm gettin' real sick and fuckin' tired of this little game you're playin' here."

"What game?" She quickly shook her head. At this point, the effort at stalling him was going to be futile but she still had to try.

"You runnin' around here in these heels and your short skirts, driving me crazy?" He gripped her hip as he spoke and held her firmly against him, despite her best efforts to struggle out of his grasp.

"Eric…you're hurting me." She gasped out but he just tightened his grip on her wrist and her hip.

"You've been hurting me every day, baby," he murmured into her hair, making her wince. "I think it's only fair."

With that, he thrust a hand up her skirt and fisted a hold of her underwear. She cried out in alarm but even if he registered her tone as something else, he chose to ignore it and smiled down at her, pulling her even closer until her entire body was flush against him.

"That's right, baby," he groaned as his finger flicked against the skin inside her underwear. She was able to let out one, blood-curdling scream before he clamped his other hand over her mouth.

"Now, that's not how we play this game," he told her sternly. When his finger moved upwards, her eyes widened and her fists were immediately thumping wildly into his chest as she struggled to free herself from his iron grip. He grinned down—was he fucking enjoying this?—and just clamped his arms down around her shoulders. She dug her three-inch heel deep into his foot and when he stumbled back, the back of his hand whipped around and connected with her cheek, his spiky skull ring ripping across her skin.

"Fucking bitch!" He screamed into her face. "I'm fucking sick of this shit!"

At this point, she was in such a daze that she barely heard him. The burning across her face distracted her from anything that was happening on the opposite side of the bathroom and when she gingerly brought her shaking hand down from her cheek, her eyes widened when she realized it was covered in blood.

Her eyes were stinging with tears as she sunk down onto the toilet, haphazardly pulling at the toilet paper to her right. She had just gotten the gash on her cheek covered when someone pounded heavily on the door. She looked up and realized that Eric hadn't moved, that he was still glaring at her with dark, shark-like eyes. A moment later, he turned on his heel and threw open the door.

"What's the hold-up here?" Her uncle's voice echoed through the bathroom.

Of course, it didn't matter to him that Eric had been essentially molesting his niece in his own house. Not like she had expected as much…she squeezed her eyes shut as the memories of another night very much like this washed over her. A tear slipped down her cheek and then she couldn't stop the flood that followed. If her uncle had waited a few more minutes, Eric would've had her skirt up around her waist and would've been raping her. Just that thought alone sent another wave of tears down her already drenched cheeks.

Her uncle pushed past Eric and his eyes immediately flew to the gash in her cheek. A split second later, he abruptly shoved Eric past the doorframe and into the hallway.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Miles?" He spat venomously. "We have to be at the clubhouse in five fuckin' minutes and you're gonna make her show up lookin' like that? What were you thinking? You couldn't have waited until we got back for that shit?"

"I'm sorry, boss," Eric stuttered nervously as her uncle pushed him further down the hallway. "I…I wasn't thinking…"

"You're gonna make me look like a fuckin' idiot!" Her uncle raged into Eric's face and then he abruptly turned back to her still trembling form in the bathroom. "Get yourself cleaned up and be ready to go in five minutes."

Five minutes? What did he expect her to do in five minutes? Somehow, she stood on weak legs and took in her reflection. Blood had dripped down to her jaw line, her eyes were rimmed with black smudges, and her hair was sticking up all over her head like she'd just rolled out of bed. She was going to need more than five minutes to make herself look even remotely presentable. The skin around the gash had already turned a light shade of purple and she hurriedly pressed some more toilet paper into her cheek—there was no way she could possibly cover it up if she didn't stop the bleeding first.

Once the bleeding was somewhat under control, she scrubbed her face with cold water, hoping that would help. It didn't. One look back at the mirror and her eyes were beginning to water again. A sob escaped her throat when she thought of having to walk into the clubhouse like this—of Jax seeing her like this. Her trembling fingers washed away the last remnants of blood on her cheeks just as another tear slipped from her eye. Exhaling a deep breath, she knew she needed to get a grip. In about four minutes, Uncle Ernie was going to be pounding on the door again and she was going to be dragged along whether she was ready or not.

She just couldn't stop crying. She wiped furiously at her eyes and then tore her hands through her tangled hair in an effort to tame it back into place. Digging into her makeup bag, her fingers closed over some powder and her mascara tube. The skin around the cut was turning an even deeper shade of purple and even the lightest dabbing of powder stung like hell. There wasn't a whole lot she could do there so she turned her attention to her eyes, still red and smudged and wiped away as much black as possible before swiping on a quick layer of mascara—if she couldn't get herself to stop crying, it wouldn't do much good anyways. She rummaged through the drawers in search of some kind of bandage to put over her cut but couldn't find anything. A shaking hand ran through her still-tangled hair when she realized that this was really happening…she was really going to have to show up at the clubhouse like this. Jax was going to see her…everyone was going to see her…

A loud pounding on the door jumped her out of her thoughts and then the door was swinging open. Her uncle peered at her with blood-shot eyes and frowned at her still-disheveled appearance. He stepped around her and dug through the bottom drawer by the sink and pulled out two band-aids, unceremoniously thrusting them at her as he stood back to his feet.

Impatiently tapping on the counter, he watched her gingerly put both bandages over the cut and she winced at even the lightest contact. It wasn't pretty but at least it was covered up. Still—there was no hiding what was underneath those bandages or the fact that she still couldn't keep the tears at bay.

"Good enough," her uncle barked out gruffly. "Let's go."

She was in a daze the entire car ride to the clubhouse as tears continued to slip past her defenses and down her cheeks. Each one that hit the sensitive skin on her right cheek stung more than the last and she had no idea how she was going to survive the night without breaking down. She wondered fleetingly if the one positive of this whole mess was that she'd be allowed to take frequent bathroom breaks to check on her cut and keep up appearances, what little was left. When the car pulled into TM's parking lot, her chest started to tighten and she almost felt like she was going to throw up.

The car door opened next to her and someone grabbed her arm to pull her out of her seat. She vaguely registered the cop car that drove past and stumbled out into the gravel towards the clubhouse's main entrance.

"Let's go now," her uncle's voice was in her ear. "Pull your shit together…do not embarrass me tonight. I mean it, Ava."

She nodded and desperately tried to hide her cheek with her hair. There wasn't much she could do now as her uncle pulled her over to Eric. He just draped an arm around her shoulder and grinned down at her like nothing had ever happened. Another hot tear slipped down her cheek as Eric gripped her hip to steer her towards the main entrance. The sounds coming from inside the clubhouse signaled that the party, so to speak, had already started without them and she swallowed tightly as she crossed the threshold.

Her senses were immediately assaulted by smoke, mold, stale beer, and loud music. On any other night, it wouldn't have mattered—it would have been just like any normal night at Lucky's. Same music, same musty smell, same clientele. Except this time, her circumstances were very different and she subconsciously situated her hair over her eye a little more to make sure the bandage was hidden as much as possible. The deeper Eric pulled her inside, the more she felt like she was going to hyperventilate. Maybe Jax wouldn't notice—maybe if she kept her distance and kept her hair in place all night, he would never notice the bandage or her tear-stained face.

She bit her lip as the crowded tables came into clearer view and couldn't stop herself from nervously scanning each one. When she didn't see him right away, she pushed out a soft sigh. She still had a little time to make herself scarce, maybe duck into the ladies' room to put another layer of powder on but her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Jax's stiff, seated form came right into her line of vision. He was bringing a cigarette to his lips when his eyes found her and then his hand froze in mid-air for only a moment, but it was long enough to know that he'd seen everything she had tried so desperately to hide from him.

When his lips closed around the cigarette, his blue eyes had glazed over with burning rage. She swallowed nervously as his gaze flicked over to Eric, who was taking a seat directly across from him at the table. Jax noticeably stiffened in his chair and his hands curled into tight fists at the edge of the table. Not needing to be further subjected to this torture, she eased away from the table and stepped cautiously to the bar. At this point, it felt like everyone in the room was staring at her. It was like she had a gigantic sign plastered on the top of her head: everyone stop what you're doing and pity me! Even the man she recognized as Clay Morrow had looked at her with remorseful eyes before clamping his teeth around his cigar and dealing out another hand.

She leaned up against the edge of the bar and winced when Opie discreetly stood next to her. He gestured to the guy with the tattooed head behind the bar—she still didn't know his actual name—and he slid a beer to her with wide eyes. She didn't hesitate to take a long pull from the beer, realizing that she was going to need something stronger than a beer to take the edge off.

"You okay, Ava?" Opie leaned over to her, his forehead etched with worry.

She swallowed again and nodded a little too quickly to be all that convincing. "I'm fine. Just having a rough night…no big deal."

"Yeah, I can tell."

Her eyes widened at his words and she nervously looked around the clubhouse. Everyone was preoccupied by the game going on at the center table and no one really seemed to paying much attention to what was happening at the bar. Except for of course, the fact that Jax's hard, ice-blue eyes kept flicking over to them every few moments.

Opie was leaning in a little closer to her now. "Bathroom's down the hall if you need it—last door on the left."

"Thanks; I appreciate it."

He nodded to her as she stepped away from the bar and headed towards the hallway. A quick glance at the center table told her that her uncle and Eric were too preoccupied with the current game to notice her absence. Jax's face, set in a firm, grim line, was turned completely towards Eric in front of him and Ava wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing. Either way, this was going to buy her some time to retreat to the bathroom for a little while, even if she did have to come face to face with a croweater or two.

The clubhouse's ladies' room wasn't much—just a couple of stalls, cracked tile flooring, and a rusty mirror. But it was surprisingly clean and at first glance, seemed empty which was good enough for her. Her reflection was painful to take in and she quickly dug her powder compact out of her purse, dapping lightly next to the bandage that was already soaked with her blood. Hot tears stung her eyes…god, she looked like complete shit. How could she have ever thought she could've covered all this up? She didn't even want to think about what that had looked like…when she'd walked into the clubhouse looking like this. And here she was, always holed out in a bathroom.

The door swung open and she looked up into the mirror to see Wendy's smug face peering back at her. Ava closed her eyes, willing herself to stay calm, and she quickly wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand.

"That's gonna be a nasty bruise, you know," Wendy started snidely as she stepped up next to her by the sink. She ran a manicured finger along the edge of her black-rimmed eyes and then set to fluffing her overly-bleached, streaked blonde hair.

It was funny; the more Ava watched Wendy primp herself in the mirror, the better she felt. Sure, she had certainly seen better days but at least she could say her reflection wasn't self-induced, at least not directly. Wendy, on the other hand, was not aging well. Concealer was creased into the lines around her eyes and along her mouth and it was clear that years of partying, drinking, and smoking God knows what had not been kind to her. If Ava looked like she'd just been hit by a truck, Wendy looked like the truck had dragged her ten miles down the road, hitting every bump on the way.

"So you showed up with Miles, right?" Wendy was saying now as she continued her ministrations in the mirror.

Suddenly, all the humor was sucked right out of the situation. What she wanted and needed right now was Wendy to leave her the fuck alone. She didn't have the energy to deal with this, not when she needed to save what little she had left for the brave front she needed to put on outside the bathroom walls.

"Wendy—that's your name, right?" Ava snapped; she waited a beat for Wendy to nod back, her eyes widening with surprise. "Do you think you could find someone else to have this little chat with? I'd really like some space right now if that's alright with you."

Wendy's eyes narrowed into black slits and crossed her arms her chest glaring expectancy like she was gearing up for a fight. But Ava had no interest in cat-fighting tonight—just hours before, she'd been jealous of this woman who'd been all over Jax at the Taste of Charming but now, she just wanted her to leave.

"Excuse me?" Wendy spat and took a step closer to her.

Ava didn't budge. "I asked you to leave. Please don't make me ask you twice."

"Or what? You'll get your big, bad Nazi boyfriend in here to rough me up too? You don't scare me, little girl."

Ava's eyes narrowed and her fingers tightened around the compact still in her hand. "Get out of here, Wendy. You fixed your makeup, you fixed your hair, now leave."

"You can't order me around here—this isn't your playground, sweetie. It's _mine_," Wendy pointed to herself as she spoke and Ava felt her blood begin to simmer over. "All those cuts out there—mine. That beer in your hand—mine. The fuckin' ground you're standing on—_mine_. So I'd watch yourself before you say anythin' else that's gonna piss me off."

Something inside her snapped and before she could stop herself, she was advancing on Wendy. She fisted her hands in Wendy's straw-like hair and shoved her backwards into the divider of the nearest stall. With her breath heaving in her chest and Wendy staring back at her with wide, disbelieving eyes, she just started to realize what had just happened. She was beginning to lose her mind—what was happening to her? But when Wendy dared to take a step closer to her, Ava just shoved her roughly back into the stall.

"I'm not fucking around here, Wendy," she spat into the bitch's face. "And if you ever refer to that skin-headed asshole as my boyfriend again, I'll rip those god awful bleached streaks right out of your head."

Wendy blinked back at her for a moment but when she opened her mouth to retort, she quickly clamped it shut by the simultaneous echo of a toilet flushing and then the creak of a stall-door opening. The click-click tapping of heels sounded from down the short distance between them and then Gemma Teller-Morrow came into view, a hand fisted into her hip and her eyebrows raised into her forehead.

Ava was sure her expression was mirrored in Wendy's horrified, open-mouthed visage.

"Everything alright here, ladies?" Gemma asked curiously, her head tilting to one side as she spoke.

Wendy nodded furiously and started moving towards Gemma with her arms outstretched in silent apology but was halted by Gemma's stern glare.

"Why don't you see if the boys need anything out there, Wendy." Gemma said calmly—it was worded like a question but with Gemma's regal delivery, it was clearly a simple order to a minion.

Wendy didn't hesitate to high-tail it out the door and when she was out of sight, Ava felt like she could finally breathe. But when she dared to cast a glance at Gemma, she suddenly wished she wasn't alone in this damp and very empty bathroom with her.

"So," Gemma started casually. "You met Wendy, huh?"

Ava swallowed tightly and nodded. "Yeah…"

"She's quite the peach, isn't she? Listen," Gemma waved a hand dismissively towards the door. "I wouldn't put an ounce of stock in anything that bitch says. I have to say though—you handled yourself pretty well before."

"You heard all that, right?"

"Oh yeah," Gemma nodded with small curve of her lips. "Every word. I didn't think you had that in you."

"I didn't either." Ava exhaled softly.

"Now—I think the more important question here is...are you alright?"

Gemma stepped close enough that she could get a better look at the purple-tinged skin along the edges of her bandage and then was stepping around her to rummage through a drawer next to the sink without even waiting to hear Ava's answer. She turned back to her with a few band-aids in hand and passed them over to her with a sympathetic smile.

"That really is going to be a nasty bruise, you know. I guess that was the _only _thing that junkie whore was right about."

Ava laughed nervously in spite of the situation and winced when she peeled away the first blood-soaked band-aid.

"I can't believe Ernie let you show up here looking like this," Gemma went on as she handed her a tube of antiseptic cream.

"Yeah, well, I've come to expect nothing less from him," Ava retorted with a mirthless chuckle and Gemma just shook her head, her eyes still carefully trained on the cut on Ava's cheek.

"I'm sorry that—"

"Don't," Gemma cut her off sharply. "No apologies. Listen, I'm not gonna pretend like I know what you're dealing with over on the north side of town but I do know that no woman deserves to become a punching bag."

She nodded slowly and pushed out a deep exhale. "Thanks."

Gemma just shrugged. "No need to thank me, Ava. Now, why don't you finish cleaning up and then we'll get a shot at the bar. You sure as hell look like you need one."

* * *

Jax had been on edge for a good hour before the Nords were due at the clubhouse. He couldn't sit still—his nerves were bouncing around and nothing successfully distracted him from what was about to go down. The problem was, of course, that he hadn't really known what was going to go down. There were just too many ways it could all go south. But nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared him for the sight of Ava walking through the clubhouse's doors with her hair barely covering the ugly, purple slice across her cheek.

It had taken all of his willpower not to flip the table over and lunge for that fucking bastard's throat. Instead, he'd had to somehow bridle his rage and sit quietly across from that son of a bitch. There was nothing he wanted to do more than take his knife and plunge it right into Eric Miles' cold, ruthless heart. But he couldn't. He had to sit here and try to pretend like nothing was wrong. Like seeing Ava's terrified and tear-stained face didn't gut him. Like seeing her walk through the clubhouse's doors with Miles' arm around her—the same man who did that to her—meant nothing to him. The worst part of this whole fucked-up charade was having to pretend like Ava meant nothing to him. There was nothing harder.

He couldn't blow their cover now—not here, in front all his brothers and all the Nords. He wouldn't be doing Ava any favors anyways—it would just make a bad situation worse. But his fingers were still twitching against the table as Miles stared back at him, almost willing him to attack. It would be so easy too…to just slide his knife out of its sheath and slide it right into Miles' heart. He deserved nothing less than all the pain and suffering in the world for what he did to Ava.

While Jax didn't know the details of what had gone down before leaving for the clubhouse, he had a pretty good idea and knowing that this wasn't the first time Miles had gone after Ava did nothing for his sanity. All he had to do was stay calm for the next couple of hours…have a couple shots to settle himself down, win the club some money. That was it. Then, he could get over to Ava's as soon as it was safe and make sure she was alright. Hell, she wasn't alright. Not even close and just the thought of that, of that asshole putting his hands on her, made him want to smash his beer bottle into the bastard's face.

All his concentration was currently focused on the poker game at hand. Miles was seated directly across from him, one of Darby's lackeys sat to his right, Tig was to Jax's left, and Chibs sat at his right. It was a decently packed table with some skillful players and, on any other night, he would have thoroughly enjoyed personally taking all of Miles' money from him. But now, all he wanted to do was get the hell away from that table before he killed someone. With his patience and his sanity wearing thin, this game had quickly gotten old. Suddenly, he couldn't even stand to be in the room anymore.

He abruptly threw in all his chips at the next bet—not because he had an ace hand but because if he sat at this table for one more moment, he might do something he was sure Ava would pay for later. Once his chips were gone and he effectively lost the hand, he tossed his cards back onto the table and roughly pushed himself off his chair. Choosing to ignore the eyes on him as he stalked through the clubhouse, he pushed through the main doors and felt his blood pressure immediately lower as the cool air hit his face.

The next thing he needed was a cigarette and he wasted no time in lighting one up, taking a quick inhale that instantaneously eased his nerves. A patrol car passed by TM's parking lot entrance and he shook his head. Hale and his boys were probably just salivating as they waited for someone on either side to fuck up and start something. Unser had promised Samcro he'd do his best to keep Hale out of their business tonight but if shit went down and a patrol car went past, there wouldn't be much he could do about it, which Jax supposed was only fair.

With all the action happening inside the clubhouse, the parking lot itself was pretty empty—save for the rows of cars and bikes—and it was a welcome relief. What he needed right now was some quiet so he could find a way to suppress his urge to put his fist through a wall. But when he closed his eyes, an image of Ava's tear-streaked, bandaged face with her wide, frightened eyes flashed across his mind. All his control was almost completely forfeit right there—despite his best efforts to keep himself in check. Just that one image was all it took to set him off again.

He felt like a fucking coward, coming out here to basically hide from everyone. He just couldn't sit there and pretend like everything was fine. And now, that he could sit out here and think without the distractions inside the clubhouse, all he could think about was what would happen to Ava when she had to leave the safety of the clubhouse tonight. Nothing was going to happen to her here, not with him around. But when she got back in that car, all bets were off. Miles had started something tonight and Jax knew him well enough to know that he wasn't the kind of a guy to just let it go. He was going to make himself crazy just thinking about it and he already knew that sleep was a lost cause tonight.

But when the clubhouse's main door swung open and Eric Miles sauntered outside with a smug sneer on his lips, Jax just about lost any real control he had left. A quick glance around the area told him that everyone else was still preoccupied by the 'peaceful' activities occurring inside. It took all of what little self-control he had left to keep his feet firmly rooted where he stood as Miles strode up just a few feet away from him.

"Nice night out here," Miles started, his upper lip curving as he spoke.

Jax felt the airs on the back of his neck stand on end just at the sound of the motherfucker's voice. He stiffened as he considered how to play this. Part of him wanted to just turn, walk away, and lock himself in TM's office so he didn't do anything that would land both him and Ava in hot water. The other part of him was chomping at the bit to get his hands around Miles' neck. He wasn't sure which part of him was going to win out.

Instead of making a choice, he brought his cigarette back up to his lips and took a deep inhale.

"Mind if I bum a smoke?" Miles asked next to him.

Jax's knee-jerk reaction would've normally been to tell Miles to go fuck himself. But when the patrol car slid by and slowed right in front of the parking lot entrance, he thought better of it. Maybe he would get to pummel Miles after all. Kill two birds with one stone.

So he just shrugged and dug his cigarette pack out of his back pocket, holding the opened package out to Miles. Once Miles had it lit and blew out a puff of smoke, Jax just waited.

"So when do you think this little charade is gonna get old?" Miles asked as he looked up into the dark sky.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know—all this pretending shit like everything's fine between us. How much longer do you think it's gonna last?"

Jax shrugged again, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he took another pull from his cigarette. "Probably not much longer."

"Yeah…here's hoping right?" Miles threw back at him. "I don't know about you but I got some better things to do tonight than fuck around here."

Jax cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah?"

Miles shot him a cocky, knowing grin. "Oh yeah. Got plans with my girl tonight and this shit here tonight is holding up my game."

Jax fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Your game? What the hell are you talkin' about, man?"

"I'm sure you remember Darby's niece, right?" Miles grinned and didn't even wait for Jax to acknowledge his question. "You know, fine tits and legs…killer ass?"

This time Miles paused for Jax's reaction.

Jax swallowed tightly and reigned in the simmering rage he needed to keep at bay for just a little bit longer. "Yeah, I remember."

"Thought you did," Miles shot back with a smug smirk. "I'm bankin' on some alone time with her as soon as we get out of here. We got a little interrupted before we had to leave for your clubhouse earlier but we'll finish what we started."

"Right—you do that to her face too before you left?"

Miles' face twitched in reaction and he quickly shook it off. "What difference does it make? The bitch had it coming."

"I'm sure she did—what, she say no too many times or somethin'?"

Miles' features darkened and he took a step closer, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Didn't know you cared so much about her, Teller."

"Never said I did," Jax just shrugged again, the lie tasting like shit as it passed through his teeth. "But that doesn't mean I appreciate you bringing a woman into my clubhouse all banged up like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Miles sneered.

"It's fucking disrespectful—we don't treat our women like that and we don't condone that shit in our clubhouse." Jax threw back, feeling his blood boil over with each second that ticked by.

"Yeah, well, I'm entitled to treat _my _woman however the fuck I want."

"Our turf, our rules, _bro_." Jax sneered back. "And thank you, by the way, for proving my point."

"What's that, Teller?"

"Exactly what all you fucking Nords are—only pieces of shit like you would lay hands on a woman."

When Miles' face twisted in rage and his lip twitched, Jax knew he had him right where he wanted him. It was hard not to just take a swing at the bastard right now but he still needed to wait.

"Oh really?" Miles shot back, his dark eyes clouding over as he took an aggressive step forward until he was practically toe to toe with him.

"Really. And you know what I like knowing about guys like you, Miles?" He didn't even give the asshole a chance to respond. "Guys like you—they always get what's comin' to them…one way or another."

"Go fuck yourself, Teller."

Miles reached out and roughly pushed Jax right in the chest. He let himself stumble back a little, just enough so it looked like he wasn't going to fight back. When Miles straightened up in victory, Jax lunged forward to shove him right onto his ass. As Miles fumbled back up onto his feet, Jax just grinned back at him—knowing exactly where this was headed. In a flash, Miles' fist swung around and connected squarely with Jax's jaw. Yeah, that's right, Jax thought to himself, this is the only free shot you're going to get.

With that, Jax advanced on Miles and threw a hard, solid punch to his face. Miles stumbled back but Jax didn't even wait for him to regain his balance—he'd allowed his burning rage to take hold of him and there was no going back now. He'd held it back for long enough and now it was time to beat the shit out of this motherfucker in front of him. He grabbed a fistful of Miles' white wife beater to pull him up on his feet and lunged his head forward to collide with Miles' forehead, the sting of the impact barely even registering to him. This time, he dropped Miles right on his ass and then sent his right foot flying into Miles' stomach and then did it again. Jax pushed Miles over onto his back and allowed his fists to connect over and over again until the flashing red and blue lights he'd been counting on grew closer.

Hale shot out of the patrol car, with Unser slowly bringing up the back, and Jax didn't put up a fight when he pulled him off of Miles. He stumbled backwards, chest heaving and still brimming with anger, and cast a glance back at the clubhouse. A crowd had already begun to gather around them and he grinned smugly back at Darby's disbelieving, pale face.

"What the hell happened?" Clay called out to him as Hale pulled his arms behind his back and slapped cuffs on his wrists.

"That fucker disrespected my club. That's what happened." Jax called back before turning to Hale. "You're gonna take that asshole in too, right?"

"Don't concern yourself with him, Jax," Hale growled behind him. "I think you've done enough tonight."

Still, he wasn't completely satisfied until he saw Unser struggling to pull Miles to his feet and drag him into the back of his own patrol car. Once Unser was following them back to the precinct, Jax settled back into the stiff seats.

* * *

Jax leaned up against the cool bars of his cell as he waited for Hale to come back with the verdict. Granted, he already had a pretty good idea what it was going to be. But his verdict wasn't the one he was the most worried about. The muffled voices from the hallway continued but he couldn't quite make out what was being said. One of the voices was most certainly Clay, another was his mother's, one belonged to Hale, another to Darby and one more he couldn't quite figure out. Either way, he was sick of waiting. That's all you did when you got dragged here. You waited.

He rested his head against a bar and exhaled deeply. All he could do now was just hope that this had worked and that he hadn't just made shit worse in the process. He'd been counting on the fact that Hale wouldn't hesitate to bring both of them in for starting something. If Hale was persistent enough to patrol around the clubhouse all night waiting for something to happen, Jax figured he might as well oblige him. This was probably the one and only time he would ever be grateful for Charming PD's refusal to leave them alone.

When the metal door opened, echoing across the entire hallway, Jax looked up to see Hale striding towards him. Hale stopped first at Miles' cell, which was about three down from the one Jax was currently standing in.

"Looks like your boys are gonna leave you in here for the night. Someone'll come bail you out in the morning." Hale told Miles.

"What?" Miles yelled. "That's bullshit! Let me talk to Darby…Teller just beat the shit out of me and I'm staying in this cell? What the fuck?"

"Calm down," Hale chided sternly. "I saw the whole thing from start to finish and you threw the first punch. You're as guilty in this as Teller. It seems like Darby feels the same way too."

"What about Teller? He doesn't get to leave either, right?"

"Don't worry about him," Hale told him. "If I were you, I'd use this time tonight to think long and hard about how I'm gonna explain myself in the morning. You know…just a suggestion."

Miles was silent after that and then Hale ventured further down the hallway until he stood directly in front of Jax. He just grinned widely back at Hale, his head tilting back in clear victory. At this point, he couldn't care less what Hale had to say to him. He'd already heard everything he needed to hear. A night in jail was nothing.

"Well, same goes for you too, Jax." Hale was saying to him now with a sober expression. "Clay's leaving you here for the night."

Jax just shrugged and backed off against the bars. He turned around and jumped down onto the hard pallet in the corner to settle in. This was nothing new to him and he'd actually spent a night in this very cell before. If anything, the familiarity was a little cozy—as cozy as a jail cell could be. But as long as Miles was right here with him, then that was all he needed to get to sleep tonight.

"That's it?" Hale asked slowly like he was having trouble gauging Jax's reaction to the news. "You're not gonna fight me on this."

"Nope."

Hale stared at him for a moment before leaning in closer. "You know, Jax, I don't understand you. The last time I brought you in here—you argued and hollered about how I had nothing to hold you on until you were blue in the face. And tonight…nothing? No arguments after I just arrested you in front of your entire club and every Nord in town?"

"No arguments."

"Huh." Hale tilted his head to the side as a frowned creased into his forehead; then he shook his head and started back down the hallway. "Have a good night then, Jax."

"You too."

As Hale's footsteps faded away down the hall, Jax leaned back into the pallet and closed his eyes. He brought his arm behind his head for a pillow and exhaled deeply. He knew he'd have to deal with Clay, his mother, and the rest of his brothers in the morning but that was fine. His pretense outside the clubhouse was airtight. Miles threw the first punch—a fact he now knew could be backed by Hale—and his reasons for beating the shit out of Miles were still legit, a fact that couldn't be denied by any of his brothers. Miles _had _been disrespectful to Samcro by bringing Ava to the clubhouse the way he did and Jax was well within his rights to defend himself when Miles went after him. Of course, he had no intention of telling anyone he had baited Miles into punching him.

He imagined that Clay and Darby were most likely on the same page with what had happened and that they were both pissed as shit for a fight breaking out during what was supposed to be a friendly display of peace. But that was just a small price to pay. He could handle the club's anger, frustration, and disappointment in him for this one thing. Ava's safety was the only consideration he'd had tonight in every action he'd taken.

Now that he had some free time, that thought began to settle around him. He'd risked an awful lot tonight for a woman. A woman who, for all intents and purposes, he couldn't have—at least not publicly. There was probably no one in his life that would fully understand why he had to do it, why he had to protect her. The thing was, this was all he _could_ do. This was the only way he could protect her tonight without putting her at even greater risk. And in doing so, he'd put his own reputation and goodwill with his brothers at risk.

Because this was the second time he'd had an altercation like this with Miles, he guessed a third would not be tolerated with next to any consideration for facts or reason. Yet, he had thrown all that aside to protect the one woman in Charming he couldn't publicly claim as his. Maybe that was the point—when Miles had thrown it in his face that Ava was 'his woman', he'd almost unsheathed his knife and stabbed him to death because, in Jax's mind, Ava didn't belong to anyone but him.

This was going to be a problem. He couldn't allow himself to go there—to ask himself the question. He had no right to even want to lay claim on her because he couldn't. Even if he could, he wasn't sure if Ava would even want him to. There was no way of knowing where they stood without having an awkward conversation—and he wasn't about to sit around and talk about his feelings. There was little sense in torturing himself about something that could never really be. So instead, he decided to take comfort in the fact that Ava would be safe for one more night and closed his eyes.

* * *

**A/N-**I know that was pretty intense but hopefully it was worth it, right? The next chapter will deal specifically with the aftermath and where Jax and Ava will need to go from here. Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favorited/alerted the last chapter. As always, let me know what you think...love it, hate it, any feedback is appreciated!


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